My Mark
by Elephantian
Summary: The story of Mark Cohen...through the eyes of his beloved scarf.
1. Chapter 1

**Well, I'm testing this. I don't know if I'll continue, but I probably will. Sorry this is so short, but I want to know what people think of it. I hope you like it! Disclaimer: I don't own RENT, Mark, or the scarf.   
**

My Mark. God I love him. Of course, he'd never know that, but I do anyway. And though he doesn't know it, he loves me too. I'm his scarf. His beloved scarf. I've seen little Mark grow up. My poor Mark, so misunderstood. So secretive. But I know about him. He confides in me. He's done so since we first met. So here it is, the life of my Mark.

I hung unmoving in the store. God I hated that store. Face after face appeared, but no one ever wanted to take me home. I felt like the most unlovable scarf in the world. Then one day, it all changed.

It was a typical morning, but something seemed different. The aisles of the store were decked in green and red and flashy lights. I had no idea what they meant, but I liked it all the same.

Suddenly, a skinny brunette came walking down the aisle, glancing to and fro. "Wait up Cindy!" a plump little woman called, hurrying after 'Cindy' with a cart. Suddenly, the brunette spied me and picked me up, rubbing her fingers along my soft, blue and gray surface.

"Do you think Mark would like this?" the girl asked the other woman.

"I do believe so," she answered, "Mark needs something to carry around other than that dreadful blanket. At least it'll keep him warm. Oh Cindy, why must you wait to do all of you Chanukah shopping until the last minute?"

"Whatever," 'Cindy' mumbled, throwing me into the cart and walking off.

I beamed. I was finally going to be bought! As I waited in the cart, I thought about this 'Mark'. I hoped he was short, and little. I was a softie for little kids. And blue eyes. Yeah, blue eyes would really stand out nicely with my coloring.

My thoughts were interrupted as I was roughly shoved into a box. "Ouch!" I cried, but no one heard me.

A lid was placed over the box and I was submerged in darkness. Suddenly, I didn't want to be bought. I had no idea where I was going. At least at the store I'd be with my friends. Oh well, too late now.

I don't know how long I was in that box, but I'm not sure I want to know. I was about to give up all hope, when the lid of my 'prison' was removed. A little boy picked me up, five years old about with bright blue eyes that shone like stars through his glasses. He was perfect.

"Thank you Cindy!" he squealed, gently wrapping me around his neck.

"No problem Mark," 'Cindy' answered.

So this was Mark. My Mark, who's neck would now remain warm thanks to me. As soon as I looked into his beautiful blue eyes, I couldn't have been happier. This was Mark, and he was all mine.


	2. Chapter 2

**Well, it seems as though a lot of people like the story, so it stays! I'm glad you guys enjoy it! Disclaimer: Don't own RENT or any of its contents.**

The night went by in a swirl of brightly colored wrapping paper, spinning a top-like thing, and handful after handful of chocolate coins. The entire time I safely hung around Mark's neck.

As it became later and later, little Mark's eyelids began to droop and he yawned lazily, rubbing the sleep from his blue eyes.

"It looks like its time for someone to go to bed," Mark's mom said.

"I'm not-" yawn "-sleepy." The boy protested.

"Mark," said his dad, "Do what your mother says. Go to bed. When I was a kid, we didn't get nice presents like this for Chanukah. And we went to bed as soon as the sun set. And we didn't complain! Kids these days, they just want everything."

I heard Mark whimper softly, but no one seemed to notice. Bowing his head, the little boy made his way to his room. "Daddy doesn't hate me," he whispered, "Daddy just wants what's best for me. He wants me to turn out like Cindy- smart and sweet. I just have to be like Cindy."

"No!" I cried, though I knew Mark wouldn't hear me, "No! Don't be like Cindy! Be like Mark! Mark is perfect."

As soon as the little guy I loved so much reached his room and closed the door, he burst out crying. Tears fell from his bright blue eyes, now blurred and hazy, down his rosy cheeks. Still crying, he gently removed his black-rimmed glasses and placed them on the end table. He crawled into powder blue pajamas with 'feet' and climbed into bed, replacing me around his neck.

"Aw, don't cry," I crooned.

As if he could hear me, Mark wiped his eyes (on me, but that was okay) and blew his nose. His eyes were puffy and red, but a little smile broke out. "Oh scarf," he whispered, "You're going to be my new best friend. I need a friend."

I blushed and smiled; singing a gentle lullaby as little Mark fell into a peaceful slumber.

break here

"Mark honey," someone said, shaking the boy's small body awake, "Come on Mark, time for school."

Mark sat up, a look of distress on in his eyes. "Do I have to go?" he asked nervously.

"Of course," his mom replied, "Why wouldn't you?"

Mark opened his mouth to reply, but didn't have a chance before his mom walked out of his room. Sighing, the boy got up and began getting ready for 'school'. He changed out of his pajamas and into light brown corduroy overalls and a red shirt. After tugging on socks with little giraffes on them and dark brown boots, he draped me around his neck.

I couldn't help but smile at his outfit. He was simply adorable- as always. "Good work Mark," I praised, "You look great!"

However, Mark's dad (Mr. Cohen I think) had a different thought. "What are you wearing?" he asked, "It's hideous! I can't believe you're my son." The last part he whispered to himself, but I could tell Mark could hear it by the way he tensed up and his head hung shamefully.

Mark reached for a bowl of probably heavily frosted and high sugar cereal- Cap'in Crunch. "I don't think so," Mr. Cohen warned, "You're fat enough as it is."

I looked up and down Mark's frail and skinny body. He sure didn't look fat.

Mark nodded and took a banana instead. He cringed with each bite, eyeing the cereal hungrily. My poor Mark. Something needed to be done, but what?


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm sorry this is so short, but I wanted to get it out tonight for my faithful readers! Love ya! Disclaimer: I don't own RENT.**

As soon as the banana was finished and Mark brushed his little teeth, he ran outside in the bitter air towards the bus stop, as he called it, tugging on his blue jacket. He reached the 'bus stop' just in time and boarded the yellow monstrosity carefully.

His head down, he took a seat right next to the bus driver. "Hello Mark." she said kindly, pulling the doors shut with a nifty lever.

Mark smiled. "Hi Rosie." He said softly.

The wrinkled, pudgy old lady looked at Mark through the mirror with soft brown eyes. "I like your scarf," she said, pulling her eyes away and putting her attention on the road, "Did you get that for Chanukah?"

The boy blushed and nodded. "Yes," he whispered, "Thank you."

'Rosie' smiled and remained silent for the rest of the ride. Mark was beaming. I liked this woman. She made Mark happy. And she'd complimented me, which was always nice.

Soon enough, we reached school and Mark ran off the bus before anyone had even risen from their seats. He dashed into the building, keeping his eyes on the ground. What was he running from?

I found out soon enough. "Hey," an older boy called, towering over Mark, "Look what we've got here! It's Moron."

Mark kept his head down as other boys joined the one teasing my friend. This had obviously happened before, and I was outraged. They had no right taunting my Mark!

The original boy pushed him to the ground. "Remember me Moron?" he asked, "It's your old pal, Ty. Doesn't your best pal Ty deserve some lunch money Moron?"

Mark silently nodded and pulled a crumpled five-dollar bill out of his jacket pocket. "Here you go," he whispered.

Ty smirked as he collected the payment. The other boys kicked Mark around a bit and then left. The now lunchless boy picked himself up, dusted himself off, and headed off to class. Who knew what kind of miseries waited there?


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm sorry these are so short, but I want to get them posted! If you'd rather have longer chapters with more time in between updates please tell me. I'm glad so many people like this! Thank you so much for reading! Disclaimer: I don't own RENT.**

Mark entered the small classroom I think it's called and took a seat just as the 'bell' rang, his head down, like always. Suddenly, the teacher entered the room. She was middle-aged looking, with thinning brown hair up in a bun and little oval glasses. Behind her trailed a little girl (five-years-old most likely).

"Students," the teacher said, "We have a new student. This is Bethany."

I looked at the girl. She had shoulder-length, curly brown hair. Her blue eyes matched her sweater. She seemed just as lonely and out of place as my Mark. It seemed like a good sign.

"She needs a friend too," I mused, "She and Mark would probably be great together."

Baily?…Barbie?…Bethany, that's it! Bethany came and sat down next to Mark. "Hi," she said timidly, "I'm Bethany."

"I'm Mark," he answered, smiling.

"I like your scarf," she whispered, looking at the floor, "It looks fuzzy."

I smiled as the two kids engaged in conversation as the teacher wrote simple addition on the board. I had a feeling these two were going to be great friends…

**Break Here**

Mark hurriedly rushed around the house, carefully putting down the good china plates and constantly smoothing his tie nervously. "When's she going to get here?" he asked himself.

"I dunno," I answered dimwittedly, hanging from his jacket pocket. Mark couldn't let me out of his sight, but his mom wouldn't let him wear me, so that's how I got in the pocket.

Mr. Cohen was out of town on business, so Mark had invited Bethany over for dinner. Each member of the family was dressed up in their best and waiting for their little guest's arrival.

The doorbell rang and Mrs. Cohen jumped up to get it as her son adjusted his tie one last time. "Hello dear," his mom said, "You must be Bethany."

Marks newfound friend walked into the room, wearing a purple polka dotted dress that reached just below her knees. She smiled nervously and sat down next to Mark.

They ate in silence, Mrs. Cohen occasionally asking Bethany about school or her family or whatever the case may be.

The night was, unfortunately, a disaster. Both kids were too nervous to say anything at all. Oh well, it was a start.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry this is so forlorn, but the ending is sweet. I'm glad so many people like this! Disclaimer: I don't own RENT and Bethany's last line was my friend's idea. Thanks for reading!**

Mr. Cohen was never meant to meet Bethany. There was some silent secret that heavily rested between Mrs. Cohen, her son, and his friend. So we were all surprised when Mr. Cohen burst in the house one night, drunk and angry.

I was draped around Mark's neck (like always) as he and Bethany were coloring. Suddenly, we heard the door open and slam shut, followed by yelling. Both kids froze and the blood drained from their faces. Before they could move a muscle, Mr. Cohen charged into his son's room.

Mark looked up at his father, who raised his eyebrows curiously as if to say 'my son found a friend?' But as soon as it had appeared, the look left, and a scowl crossed his face. Pushing Bethany aside, he picked Mark up roughly and set him on his feet.

Without thinking, Mr. Cohen drew his hand back and slapped little Mark across the face, leaving a long, red blotch. It was as if a bomb had exploded. The man clenched his hands into fists and punched Mark one, two, three times in the gut. I tried my best to get in the way of my Mark and his father's fist to (hopefully) lessen the blows.

A calm manner set in, and Mr. Cohen grunted before walking out of the room. Bethany had scooted to behind the bed, and was peering at us with wide, bright blue eyes. Mark's own eyes were glossy with unshed tears. Oh, my poor Mark. Why did someone so wonderful have to be so mistreated?

"Thank you," he whispered, gently clutching me in his little hands and kissing me where Mr. Cohen had hit me.

Before anyone could say another word, Mrs. Cohen appeared in the doorway. "Come on Bethany," she said sweetly, "Let me drive you home."

I could tell she was still shocked by the display, so the girl just nodded and followed Mrs. Cohen out the door, but not before giving Mark a little kiss on the cheek.

"My mommy says kisses make everything better," she whispered before walking out the door.


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm SO sorry I haven't updated in forever! I think this chapter is a little longer than all the others, but I'm not sure. Now that I have a few characters that treat Mark as a person, the chapters should be getting happier, but I'm not making any promises (I write how my mind tells me to write, and I'm better at forlorn stuff). Other than that, I own nothing and I hope you like it!**

From that moment, school became so much better for my Mark. He had Bethany, and Ty and his friends didn't bug the little boy anymore. Of course, life at home just got worse. Mr. Cohen began coming home drunk every night, volatile and violent. But the only person he ever hit was my Mark. Soon, bruises began to bloom across the young boy's pale skin. Yet, no one ever said anything about it. Mark had long since learned that crying made his father angrier, so he locked up his emotions and threw away the key. Yet, he managed to retrieve it when he was in bed, late at night, when he'd cry and cry until all the tears were gone. And every time I'd be right there with him, comforting as best I could. Bethany was the only person Mark had to live for, and I was eternally grateful for it.

Mark gathered up his crayons and stuffed them in his desk. School was over for the day, and I could tell he didn't want to go home. I didn't blame him.

"Mark," the teacher, Ms. Pratt, said, as the last student exited the room, "May I talk to you?"

"The bus," Mark whispered.

"I'll drive you home."

I knew Ms. Pratt had won when Mark approached her desk. "What is it?" he asked quietly, stuffing his hands in his pockets nervously.

Ms. Pratt sighed. "I'm worried about you. At first, I disregarded the bruises, but there're more of them now. And you always have some kind of welt on your face. Mark, is something going on at home?"

"Yes!" I screamed, knowing perfectly well that no one would hear me, "Yes! Oh Ms. Pratt, yes, yes ,yes! Thank you for noticing! Tell her Mark, tell her!"

But Mark only bit his lip and shook his head 'no'. "No Ms. Pratt."

The teacher looked at her student cautiously before saying, "Alright Mark, I trust your judgment. Just remember, I'm here to talk anytime you want. Come on then, let me drive you home."

Ms. Pratt gathered her things and led Mark to the parking lot behind the school. She helped Mark into the front seat of her cherry red jeep. "Don't worry," she reassured, "There aren't any airbags. You'll be fine."

We sat in silence as Ms. Pratt drove Mark home. She pulled in the driveway, but Mark didn't move. Tears welled in his eyes.

"Mark?" I said nervously, "Are you okay?"

"I don't wanna go in," the boy said softly, "Please don't make me go in."

Ms. Pratt nodded and started the car. "It's okay Mark," she said soothingly, "No one's making you go in. Do you want some ice cream?"

Mark nodded and wiped his eyes. "Yes please."

About ten minutes later, we were sitting in Baskin Robins, where posters for the upcoming holiday, I think Valentine's Day, plastered the walls. Both people had chocolate ice cream cones.

Mark talked about everything that had been happening since Chanukah (which had passed a good two months ago). Ms. Pratt listened intently, nodding every once in a while. I nearly started crying as Mark recollected on all of the terrible things his father had done.

When he was finished, we silently went back to Ms. Pratt's car and soon enough, we were back at the Cohen house. Mark started whimpering, and I did my best to be fuzzy and warm.

Ms. Pratt leaned over and gave Mark a hug and a little kiss on the forehead. "You're a wonderful person Mark, never forget that. Your father loves you. You may not want to go in that house, but there are things in life that you have to do, even if you don't want to. Don't worry Mark, everything will be okay."

Mark nodded and exited the car, mumbling an inaudible 'thank you'. Maybe everything would be okay after all. But before we had even reached the door, Mr. Cohen came barging out and slapped Mark across the face.

"Where have you been?" he yelled, "You come home on the bus! Your mother is worried sick! You come right home after school! No more hanging out with your friends! Nothing! You hear me? NOTHING!"

Mark fell to the ground, desperately trying to contain tears. So maybe everything _wasn't_ going to be okay…


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry this is so short, as all the others have been, but hey, it's better than nothing. I don't own RENT (do I really have to write this any more? Everyone knows I don't own it). By the way, anything that looks like this ---> text means that it should be profanity, but I wanted it to stay 'G' for the younger readers. I hope you enjoy it!**

"Come on," Mr. Cohen said gruffly, dragging Mark along by tugging on me, a promising sign of stretching me out. This was just another reason to despise the man.

"Daddy, please!" Mark squealed, nearly choking, "Stop!"

"Not until I get to the bottom of this."

I sighed. Ever since Ms. Pratt had driven Mark home that one day, Mr. Cohen had been hysterical. Now he'd dragged Mark back to school and was going to give the teacher a piece of his mind. I had a bad feeling about the whole thing.

"It's right here." Mark whispered when we reached the classroom.

Mr. Cohen stormed in the room, dragging poor little Mark with him. Ms. Pratt looked up from the papers she was grading; her glasses sliding down her nose. As she pushed them back up, curiosity and concern crossed her face.

"May I help you?" She asked quietly.

Mr. Cohen roughly pushed Mark (and me) to the ground and faced the calm teacher, his face turning bright red. If the atmosphere hadn't been so tense, I would have burst out laughing. He looked like a pig, minus the tail- squealing, pudginess, the whole shebang.

"Can you help me?" he said, "Can you help me? Why the heck would I have come here if you couldn't help me? For **_FUN_**?"

Ms. Pratt remained cool. "Since you brought Mark with you, I will assume you're his father. May I help you Mr. Cohen? If not, please take your bad attitude out of my classroom."

Mr. Cohen turned redder (if possible) and Mark tried to contain a smile. Ms. Pratt- 1. Mr. Cohen- 0. The older man turned towards his son, who's small smirk quickly disappeared.

"What are you laughing at?" Mr. Cohen asked threateningly, "One more move like that and you won't be able to sit down…or see…for a month. That's how swollen you'll be!"

Mark whimpered, though only loud enough for me to barely hear. My poor Mark. He didn't deserve this. I felt awful. When would he escape this?

"Mr. Cohen," Ms. Pratt said, "I don't believe threats are necessary. And I'm almost certain Mark didn't do anything wrong. He was simply giggling, a common thing among small children."

"Don't tell me how to raise my kid," Mr. Cohen spat, "I'm perfectly capable."

"I'm sure you are, sir," Ms. Pratt said, "Now, can I help you?"

Mr. Cohen (finally) got straight to the point. "What are you doing with my son?"

"Mr. Cohen sir," Ms. Pratt began, "I was simply worried about Mark. He seems to have bruises all over and a large welt on his face that always seems to be growing worse. I tried to figure out what was wrong. I'm a teacher Mr. Cohen. I love my students and treat them as I would my own children."

Mark blushed at the last part. I wondered when the last time anyone had loved Mark…or at least said so out loud and acted upon it. The boy beamed. I was so proud for him. My Mark…proud and happy at last.

"My son doesn't need your 'love'," Mr. Cohen nearly yelled, and the smile faded from Mark's lips, "Leave him alone and stop meddling with his affairs. You're, as you said, a teacher and strictly a teacher. I don't want you talking with my son any more!"

With that, the man yanked Mark up and dragged him out of the room before Ms. Pratt could say a word. Mark's eyes were teary again. He had just lost a friend…and he needed all the friends he could get.

"Oh Ms. Pratt," I whispered, "Please don't listen to that mean, old man. Mark needs your help!"


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry for the shortness and the long wait (I really think this may be one of the shortest chapter I've posted yet). We all know I don't own RENT (I don't even know why I write it anymore). Hope you like it!**

Mark sat on the floor, cutting big, uneven hearts out of red construction paper, making sure I was well out of the way of the sharp scissors. Valentine's Day was a mere twenty-four hours away, and my little guy was making valentines. Of course, Mark only had two people to make valentines for- Bethany and Ms. Pratt. Wait, scratch that, one person.

After that little episode with Mr. Cohen, Ms. Pratt had been almost ignoring my Mark. I felt awful, and I'm sure the little guy did too. He had lost a friend, something he needed badly. Nevertheless, he was still making a valentine for his teacher, as well as the other twenty-two students in his class.

About two hours later, Mark sat in a pile of red scraps, cream-colored lace, bags of chocolate and candy and, to top it all off, everything was covered in glue…as well as Mark. Luckily, he'd left me on his bed, far away from the harmful glue (much to my thanks). Triumphantly, Mark glued a little bag of goodies to the last red heart and put it in a plastic bag.

"Done!" he squealed before looking around, "Well, almost done."

I laughed, as did Mark. A smile. I hadn't seen one of those in a week. It was nice to see my little guy happy. I loved him so much and I couldn't bear to see him unhappy.

**Break Here**

"Alright everyone," Ms. Pratt said, "You may now pass out your valentines."

The class cheered and pulled out their bags. I couldn't help but laugh at their eagerness. Even Mark seemed excited. He got up, straightened me out, and walked over to Bethany, er, well, at least her box. That morning, each child had decorated a box to put their valentines in.

She blushed as Mark put in his valentine. "I filled yours up with extra chocolate," he whispered before moving to the next person.

Soon enough, the valentine exchange was over and everyone went back to their desks to inspect their receiving. Mark sighed, digging through all the cheap, store-bought valentines.

The bottom of the box was covered in brightly wrapped chocolate hearts and candies of all sorts. Mark squealed quietly in delight. What kid didn't like chocolate? A crisp, white envelope caught my attention, as well as Mark's. He cautiously opened it and read the neat handwriting.

_Dear Mark,_

_I'm sorry that I haven't paid attention to you all week. As your father said, I _am_ strictly a teacher, and for that I truly regret. I want to help you, but I would also like to obey your father's wishes. Here's my plan. Though I cannot help you this year, I _can_ help next year and all years following, for I will no longer be your teacher and your father will have no say in it. Until then, I'm your teacher for the remainder of the year, but _always_ a friend._

_Yours Truly,_

_Ms. Pratt_

Mark blushed and looked up shyly at his teacher. She smiled gently, her eyes questioning. Mark returned the smile, which seemed to make Ms. Pratt happy. I, for one, was overjoyed. Ms. Pratt hadn't given up on him after all.


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry for the long wait. The usual junk. Blah blah blah. Enjoy!**

"No!" Mark screamed, clutching Bethany's weak body, "Not now! Please! No!"

The now twelve-year-old looked up into her friends bright blue eyes, sparkling with tears. "I…can't." She said in a strained voice.

"No," Mark whispered, tears breaking free, "You can't die. I need you."

Bethany moaned, clutching at her heart. "I'm sorry," she mouthed before her eyes rolled back and she went completely limp.

I nearly started crying when Mark, tears streaming down his face, tipped his now-deceased friend's head back and leaned in to kiss her.

Suddenly, Bethany started laughing. Her bright eyes flew open and Mark joined in the laughter. I sighed. It was so perfect- until she burst out laughing.

"Oh Bethany!" Mark whined, "You ruined it!"

"Bravo!" said Ms. Pratt, clapping, "It's wonderful! Oh Mark, I can't believe you wrote that script all by yourself. It was beautiful! The love between Amelia and Leonard is amazing. I'm sure you'll win if Bethany doesn't start laughing. You'll have to work on that."

Mark blushed. He'd been working on his script for English class and they'd been performing it for Ms. Pratt nearly every day for the past few weeks. Mark wanted to win the scriptwriting and performing contest more than anything.

**Break Here**

Mark stood in front of his floor length mirror, straightening his tie. I was securely tucked into the pocket of his tuxedo jacket, a habit he hadn't been able to break for seven years. Each film was going to be previewed and my Mark was as jittery as jell-o.

There was a soft knock on the door and Mrs. Cohen entered her son's room. "Oh sweetie," she cooed, licking her finger and fixing his hair, "Everything is going to be just fine. Even Cindy is going driving in from NYU to see this. Your father's already in the car. Move alone now, Mark, honey. We don't want to be late."

Mark nodded, straightening his tie once more and checking to make sure I was still in his pocket before his mom ushered him out the door and into the car. Mr. Cohen grunted and he started the car. I could tell Mark was too excited to notice his father's usual, cruel behavior. It hadn't gotten better over the years, it had even gotten worse.

They reached the Scarsdale High School and entered the auditorium. Bethany was already there with her parents, wearing a dark blue dress. She waved the Cohen's over and waited for the show to start.

**Break Here**

"And the winner is," an elderly man said, pulling a card out of an envelope, "George Bucket!"

A husky boy whose face was dotted with zits got up and walked up to the stage, smiling, his braces sparkling in the spotlight. He started to speak, but I didn't pay attention. Mark had gone stiff, and I could tell he was trying to contain tears. This play had taken over his _life_ for the past few months.

"Oh Mark," Bethany whispered, reaching out.

"Just leave me alone." Mark snapped, getting up and storming out the door into the harsh December air.


	10. Chapter 10

**Well, I really don't have that much to say. I don't own RENT. I hope you like this, it's a less morbid chapter.**

"Oh Mark," Ms. Pratt said softly, giving him a hug, "It's not the end of the world."

It was the next day, and Mark had turned to Ms. Pratt for comfort. He'd already used up all his tears on me overnight. I was still somewhat soggy, but Mark didn't seem to mind.

"I know," Mark said dryly, "But I worked so hard!"

"Mark, honey, this is just more reason to pursue your dream. Mark my words, Mark, one day, you're going to be rich and famous. Don't worry. You just need to keep trying. As a wise person once said, 'That which does not kill me makes me stronger.'"

Mark nodded, "I guess you're right."

"Don't brood over it for too long sweetie," Ms. Pratt said cheerfully, "You wouldn't want to ruin your birthday with it. Enjoy your last few days as a twelve-year-old honey."

Mark blushed, straightening me out, a typical comfort for him. "Are you coming?" he asked, still looking at the floor.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"And my Bar Mitzvah?"

"Mark, honey, everything is marked on my calendar. _My son is becoming a Bar Mitzvah_. Right on the twelfth of March."

Mark blushed. He still couldn't get over the fact that Ms. Pratt thought of him as her son. She didn't have any children, and was more than happy to bring Mark and Bethany into her family.

**……**

"Happy birthday!" the little crowd of people cheered as Mark blew out the thirteen candles on his cake.

"Don't forget to make a wish," I whispered.

I looked around the room, a jolt of sadness passing through me. These were all of Mark's friends. Only Bethany, Mrs. Cohen and Ms. Pratt filled the room. That was it. Mr. Cohen was visiting Cindy as NYU, so we didn't have to worry about him, but still. Mark's friends only consisted of three people. Well, and me of course. Three people and a scarf. My poor Mark, at least he was happy.

"Open my present first!" Bethany said excitedly after we were all finished with the cake.

"Okay," Mark answered, taking a fairly small box covered in bright yellow paper from his friend. He quickly tore off the wrapping paper and opened the box.

"What is it Mark?" Mrs. Cohen asked.

"It's a…um…I'm not really sure."

"Oh silly!" Bethany said, "It's an empty box."

Mark gave her a questioning look. "Um…thanks."

"Don't thank me if you don't know what it means."

"Um, well then, what does it mean?"

"Whenever you're feeling down, just take this box to me, or anyone in this room. It kinda like a lifeline."

"Oh wow," I whispered, "It's perfect."

"Thanks Bethany," Mark said, giving her a hug, "It's just what I wanted."

From Ms. Pratt, he got a big pad of paper to write screenplays. From Mrs. Cohen he got a new pair of jeans.

"Thanks everyone!" he said, giving them all a hug, "I'm glad you could make it."

"Oh Mark sweetie," Mrs. Cohen said when everyone was gone, "Happy birthday. I'll clean this all up. Why don't you go upstairs and practice your portion?"

"Alright."

I soon became wrapped up in Mark's voice as he chanted the Hebrew. He had such a nice voice, though I'm sure he'd never realize it. Things were turning out pretty well for my Mark, and I was happy about it. He stopped chanting abruptly and gave me a hug.

"All those presents were nice," he said, "But you will always be the best."


	11. Chapter 11

**I know this extremely short, but this is the second posting today, so…yeah. Hope you like it! Disclaimer: I don't own RENT.**

Mark took a deep breath as he got into his new suit. It was finally here- his Bar Mitzvah. Gosh, he looked handsome- his days of looking cute were long gone. I kinda missed them, but I loved my 'grown-up' Mark just as much.

"Mark!" Mr. Cohen yelled gruffly from downstairs, "Hurry your butt up!"

Mark rolled his eyes before straightening his tie and stuffing me gently in his pocket.

"I need you to come," he whispered, "I need all the support I can get."

**Break Here**

"Congratulations Mark," Bethany said, giving her friend a hug, "You did great!"

"Thanks," he said, "I just can't believe it's all over. I mean, I've been preparing for this day for so long, and now it's gone."

"Oh cheer up!" Bethany said, "You've got a big party to attend tonight…in your honor! It's not over yet!"

"Dinner," Mark corrected, "A small dinner with my family and friends. Only the popular kids have enough friends, and money, for big, extravagant parties. Anyway, the dinner is just fine with me. I don't want to invite people I hate to something so special."

"Eh, move over kid," Mr. Cohen grumbled, "Let people of importance in Mark's life say their congrats."

Both kids rolled their eyes and Bethany walked away, engaging in conversation with Ms. Pratt.

"How did I do Dad?" Mark asked hopefully.

"I think you did great Mark," I said.

"Awful," Mr. Cohen answered, and Mark's small smile turned upside down, "You must have screwed up about ten times."

"He did not!" I insisted.

"Your speech was horrendous."

"What the heck are you talking about? Mark spent _months_ on that speech. It was much more interesting than any other speech I've heard."

"Your voice was terrible."

"Mark has a beautiful voice. He could go professional if he wanted."

"Did I do anything right?" Mark asked nervously.

Mr. Cohen gave him the evil-eye before putting his arm around Mark's shoulder and saying, "Son, seeing as this is your Bar Mitzvah, I assume I should give you some advice as your father. Anything I say at the dinner tonight is total bullcrap, so listen to this instead. Mark, you're not that smart or handsome. You're an ugly little dimwit. If you're going to make it in this life, you can't listen to your heart and go chasing fools dreams. You have to choose and easy career. Maybe get an undergrad or something. You're never going to have a girlfriend, ugly and stupid as you are, so if a girl likes you, grab hold and never let go, because you'll never have another chance. This is your Bar Mitzvah, son. It's probably going to be the best thing you'll ever do. Knowing that, you don't have to try to do anything useful, not like you could do it anyway. And that, Mark, is my fatherly advice. Use it well."

Mark stood there, gaping, as his father walked off to greet guests. Tears sprung to his eyes.

"Oh Mark," I cooed, "Don't listen to him. Not today, not ever! You're a something Mark, not a nothing. You're going to make something of yourself."

Ms. Pratt walked up and said, "Mark, don't listen to him. I don't know what he said, but from the expression on your face, I can tell it's not good. This is your day, have fun!"

Mark nodded and Ms. Pratt gave him a hug. All I could think was, thank goodness for Ms. Pratt.


	12. Chapter 12

**Actually, I think this chapter is pretty long. I try to update everyday, so sorry for the long wait, but I did update twice on Sunday, so I guess all's well. This chapter is actually relatively long (I think), so I hope you like it! (I don't own RENT, obviously.)**

"I can't believe it's all over." Mark whispered to me that night. The party was long over and we were safely tucked into bed.

"Ah, but it was fun." I said.

"Tomorrow," Mark said, "We'll get the pictures developed. And I'll open up all my presents. That should be fun."

"Yeah…" I mumbled before yawning and falling asleep in the warm arms of my Mark.

**Break Here**

"Wow!" Mark said, examining the newly arrived package, "I wonder what it is."

The box reached just past Mark's waist and was pretty long. And even better, it was addressed to him. Mark quickly tore open the package and pulled out a shiny, new bicycle. Spying a card on the handlebars, Mark ripped it off and read it.

_Dear Cousin Mark, _

_I know we haven't seen each other in forever, though that's expected with our parents and all. I heard through the grapevine that it's your Bar Mitzvah, so I got together some money (not that it was hard, seeing as Daddy has lots of money) and got you a bike. I hope you like it. We should really catch up sometime. Happy Bar Mitzvah Marky!_

_-Muffy Gray_

_P.S. Actually, it's Allison now. I changed my name back in fourth grade when Daddy got remarried. His new wife didn't like the name Muffy, so I changed it. I still like Muffy better, but whatever._

Mark smiled. "Ah yes," he mumbled, "Cousin Muffy, er, Allison. I miss her. I haven't seen her since my fifth birthday. We used to be inseparable, but then her mom and my dad got into a fight, as siblings do, and we haven't talked since."

He sighed, as did I. Another friend, lost in time for my Mark. Poor guy. "Well," I said, trying to be optimistic, "Maybe you guys can talk again sometime."

"C'mon then," Mark said, stuffing the letter in his pocket, "Let's go take these cameras to the pharmacy. Then we can pick them up sooner. Gosh, Cousin Muffy, I mean, Allison's gift came right on time. I'm gonna have to get used to that."

**Break Here**

"Present time!" Mark said gleefully, putting package after package onto the clean tabletop.

"Mark honey!" Mrs. Cohen yelled from the other room, "Don't forget to write down who got you what. You'll need it for thank-you cards. Are you sure you don't want to watch Buzzline with me sweetie?"

"Yes mom," Mark groaned, and under his breath he muttered, "That show is so sleazy. I hope I never have to work there. It's such a sellout."

"What's that Mark?" Mrs. Cohen asked.

"Nothing Mom," Mark answered, before rolling his eyes and starting to open the brightly wrapped gifts.

**Break Here**

"Oh wow," Mark whispered, opening the last gift, which just happened to be Ms. Pratt's.

It was a camera.

Mark pulled off the card, which barely had any writing on it.

_Dearest Mark,_

_Congratulations on your Bar Mitzvah. I know you'll use this well. There's a little video inside for you._

_Truly,_

_ Ms. Pratt_

Mark got up and plugged the camera into the TV while his parents were out to lunch. After flipping through the channels, Ms. Pratt's face showed up on screen. Mark sat down on the couch and watched intently.

"Mark," Ms. Pratt began, "Oh Mark. You did lovely dear, just splendid. You looked very handsome. I've watched you grow up from a shy boy into a confident young man. I couldn't be prouder, at any time. Despite what anyone else says, Mark, you'll always be special and mean something to someone, especially me. As I've told you before, I consider you my son; I just love you so much. Mark," -sigh- "Oh Mark, I don't know how I'm going to tell you this. Dear Mark, I have cancer. I'm not sure how much longer I have on this earth, but my doctors say about three weeks as of your Bar Mitzvah. I'm going to miss you so much when my time is up, but I don't want you to grieve for to long. I want you to move on. My only request is that you place flowers on my grave once in a while. My favorites are daisies. Mark, just remember, I will _always_ love you, and me being gone doesn't change that in the least."

Ms. Pratt blew a little kiss before the screen went blank. Mark was white as a sheet and his eyes were wide and full of tears.

"Oh Mark," I whispered, "Oh my."


	13. Chapter 13

Yes, this is the second posting of My Mark today, so it's allowed to be short. This chapter is dedicated to -TheSingingBlob-, who asked for a happy chapter, so thus, this chapter was born. I wasn't going to include, but oh well. Enjoy!

"Cancer!" Mark yelled, "Cancer! Why didn't you tell me?"

Ms. Pratt sighed and rubbed her temples. "Mark, honey, you had so much on your mind. I didn't want to bother you with it."

"How long have you had it for?" Mark asked, "Three weeks is an awfully short amount of time."

"I had it before I'd even met you honey," Ms. Pratt answered, "I went into remission right before you came into kindergarten, but I got it back a year or so ago. I'm sorry honey."

Mark took a deep breath. "Good," I said, "You just need to calm down."

"Three weeks," he muttered, "Three weeks. That's not a long amount of time."

"Yes Mark, sweetie, I know that," Ms. Pratt answered, "But I've learned to take it one day at a time." -awkward silence- "Mark, I'm going to have to stop teaching. Friday is my last day, actually. My doctors want me in the hospital. You can visit me there if you want."

Mark grew quiet, his head hanging.

"Mark," I asked worriedly, "Mark, are you okay?"

"Mark?" Ms. Pratt asked anxiously.

"I'm fine," he mumbled, his head still on the floor.

Ms. Pratt sighed. "Mark, honey, why don't you come to my house for dinner tonight? I'd like you to meet my husband."

Mark looked up, surprised. "But," he stuttered, "I. Um. Home. Family. Lemme call."

Ms. Pratt nodded and Mark made his way to the payphone towards the office.

"Yeah, hi Mom, it's Mark. Can I go to Ms. Pratt's house for dinner?" -pause- "No, she invited me." -pause- "I really don't want to see Dad right now. You know what he does." -pause- "Thanks Mom!"

I smiled, as did Mark, and then Ms. Pratt as her former student burst into her classroom. A smile, how nice.

**Break Here**

"Earl," Ms. Pratt called as she walked through the door of her house, Mark on her heels, "Earl, I'm home!"

"Dorothy baby!" I heard a deep voice say cheerfully from the other room, "Coming Dorothy babe."

Babe? What was up with that? Mark seemed to be thinking the same thing because he gave his former teacher a quizzical look. She blushed a deep shade of red and diverted her eyes to the floor.

A heavyset man walked in the door, his arms outstretched as he engulfed his wife in a hug and kissed her gently on the cheek. "How's it going babe?" he asked.

"Oh just fine Earl honey," Ms. Pratt answered, closing her eyes happily, "I brought a friend home dear."

Mr. Pratt…Earl…surveyed Mark. "Ah," he said, "You must be Mark Cohen."

Mark blushed. "How'd you know?" he asked.

"Dorothy's never brought a friend home before. You make her happy boy. Real happy indeed. Glad you could join us Mark-o."

Mark blushed again. I could tell it was going to be a good night.


	14. Chapter 14

**Again, another happy chapter for -TheSingingBlob- because she asked for it and I was too lazy to write this yesterday. Um, the next chapters won't be so happy. Sorry for the shortness (as always). I hope you like it!**

"How was your day Earl?" Ms. Pratt asked, scooping some mashed potatoes onto her plate.

"We got our shipment of spring animals in," Mr. Pratt answered, taking a bite out of his roll, "We got Porky back. Boy, he's gotten back. He's in the backyard right now, actually. Hey Mark-o, would you like to see Porky after dinner?"

"Um," Mark said hesitantly, putting down his fork, "Who's Porky?"

"Earl's a photographer," Ms. Pratt replied, "Each spring, they get some farm animals for the little kids to take pictures with. Porky's just the cutest little pig I've ever seen. He's part of the family."

Mark's face lit up. "Aw, he sounds cute," he said, "I'd love to see him!"

"Great!" Mr. Pratt said happily, "You'll love Porky. He's a doll. Anyway, Mark-o, you got any jokes?"

"Uh oh," I said, laughing.

"Um…" Mark began unsurely.

"Oh Earl," Ms. Pratt said teasingly, "You and your jokes. You see, Earl's always looking for a good joke."

"Well Mark-o?"

Mark smiled. "Well Mr. Pratt-"

"Earl," Mr. Pratt said, "I'll have none of that formal junk."

"Okay, Earl," Mark said, "I think I have one. Did you ever hear of the dyslexic, agnostic, insomniac?"

"No." Both Pratt's said in unison.

"Yeah, he sat up all night, wondering if there really was a dog."

Earl chuckled. "Not bad Mark-o, not bad at all. I'll have to tell you the other ones sometime."

Mark blushed and I sighed contently. This was the kind of family Mark belonged in.

**Break Here**

"Here," Mark said, "Lemme help you with those dishes."

"I won't hear of it," Ms. Pratt insisted, "Go meet Porky. You'll like him."

"Alright," Mark said, defeated, as he followed Earl into the backyard.

Suddenly, a little blob of pink came running, snorting and jumping all over them.

"Mark," Earl said, "Get acquainted with Porky here. I'll be right back."

Mark nodded and the man walked off.

"Hi Porky."

Snort.

"What's up?"

Snort.

"Cool."

Porky snorted once more and jumped up, knocking Mark to the ground. As soon as he fell, the pig climbed on top of him, covering the boy's face with slobbery kisses. Mark rolled around on the lawn, laughing.

"Ah!" he called through laughter, "Help! Stop!"

Through the bushes, I saw Mr. Pratt smiling, taking pictures with his camera. I smiled. Good old Mr. Pratt. Mental note to self-

1. Get a picture from Mr. Pratt when this is done.


	15. Chapter 15

**Sorry this is so short and morbid, but I'm done with the happy stuff. Maybe I'll have some more later. Hope you like it.**

Mark sighed. It was an exceptionally warm day, though he seemed cold, freezing even. You could even go far enough to say numb.

I was tightly wrapped around his neck. No one had been available to drive Mark, so he had ridden his bike. He now stood stiffly, his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. He was the first person to get here, and I wasn't surprised. He pulled his camera out of an olive green bag and paned around the cemetery.

"April third, 1978. Ms. Dorothy Pratt, my favorite teacher of all time, has died of cancer. Her funeral is today. As you can see from the empty cemetery, she was cared deeply about."

With that, he turned off the camera and put it away. I smirked. The camera was just a stupid phase. He'd get over it in a few weeks. Nah, that camera was no competition and never would be.

"Ah, it's okay Mark," I said, trying to be my softest, "Now Ms. Pratt doesn't have to suffer anymore. And she'll always be watching over you. Now you have a guardian angel."

Mark sighed and pulled out his camera- that stupid, lousy camera- as Mr. Pratt walked into the cemetery towards Mark.

"Hey Mark-o," he said, smiling softly to try and hide the sorrow in his voice.

"Hi Mr. Pr…Earl," Mark responded, correcting himself, "How are you?"

Earl sighed and looked up at the sky. "Not too good Mark-o," he replied, "Dorothy was my life, and now she's gone."

Mark remained silent and looked at the ground, his camera still pointed at the mourning widower.

"Mark-o," Earl said, looking at him, "I can't stand this place anymore. It reminds me too much of Dorothy. She helped me pick out the house. After the funeral, I'm going straight to the airport. I'm moving across the country to California with Porky, who's retiring. It'll be quite a change from Jersey."

"Oh Mr. Pratt," I asked, "How could you? Mark needs you to be here!"

Mark tensed up. "Well," he said stiffly, "I hope you enjoy the sunny weather."

"Mark-o, I'd call, but you remind me to much of Dorothy. I love you though. Love you like a son."

Before anyone could say another word, people began to arrive and Mr. Pratt went to go greet guests, leaving Mark alone for what wasn't going to be the first time today.


	16. Chapter 16

**This is, for a fact, the shortest chapter I have EVER posted for My Mark, but I thought it was important to get this out. Well, actually, it's more like half a chapter. So, yeah…enjoy.**

Mark silently dropped a handful of dirt on Ms. Pratt's grave. The funeral was just about over by now. He'd dug out his camera once or twice (stupid thing), but Mark had just sat there quietly most of the time. He lingered over the grave for a moment before turning away.

"Hey Mark-o," Earl called, "Wait up. I wanna tell you something."

"What?" Mark asked bitterly.

"I…I'm sorry for being such a jerk. For leaving you here by yourself in Scarsdale. I really do love ya like a son Mark-o. Maybe I'll call when the wounds heal a bit."

Mark displayed a crooked smile. "Thanks." He muttered.

I smiled. Maybe Earl Pratt wasn't a jerk after all.


	17. Chapter 17

**AND THE WRITER'S BLOCK HAS BEEN TEMPORARILY LIFTED! HOORAY! Yup, the writer's block went away just enough to write this chapter. Enjoy (yeah, about enjoying, good luck with that).**

"I don't wanna come out," Mark whined, burying himself deeper under the sheets of his bed.

"Mark baby," Mrs. Cohen said gently from behind Mark's closed door, "You can't live like this forever. Come join your father and I for dinner."

"No!" Mark yelled from beneath the sheets, clenching his eyes shut and holding me closer, making me feel like I was suffocating.

"Mark," I said to the best of my ability, "I love ya and all, you know I do with all my heart, but this is ridiculous. I need to breathe!"

But I knew he couldn't hear me, so Mark didn't release his tight grasp.

"Mark," Mr. Cohen said sternly, "If you don't get out here _right this instant_ you'll have a lot more to deal with than that bad test grade."

"Uh oh…" I said. Mr. Cohen had definitely pressed the wrong button.

"I DIDN'T FAIL A STUPID TEST!" Mark screamed, "MY TEACHER AND ALMOST ONLY FRIEND JUST DIED OF CANCER! WHY CAN'T YOU BE A GOOD DAD? JUST…JUST…JUST FUCK OFF!"

I heard Mrs. Cohen gasp from behind the door, which was followed by an awkward silence. I heard Mark's heavy breathing and felt his heart pounding. I'm sure he was surprised with his own behavior.

Suddenly, the door flew open with a bang, to reveal Mr. Cohen, his face a deep shade of red. I even think I saw steam coming from his ears.

"Hey Mark," I warned, "You better get out from under those sheets and prepare yourself."

As if he could hear me, Mark emerged, his face paling when he saw his father. His eyes grew wide and Mark just sat there, dumbstruck.

In slow motion, I watched as Mr. Cohen brought back his arm, his hand clenched in a fist, and see it fly forward, hitting Mark straight in the jaw. I heard a loud crack, as well as Mrs. Cohen scream.

Mark fell to the floor, grunting softly as his dad's feet connected hardly with his weak body.

"Please, Rob," Mrs. Cohen pleaded, almost in hysterics, "Leave him alone. Please!"

"Not until he learns Debby," Mr. Cohen answered stiffly, stopping very briefly to wipe the sweat gathering on his brow.

Mrs. Cohen- Debby- nodded stiffly and walked away. Not to long after, I heard the TV go on loudly.

"Great," I said to myself, "Mark's own mother is ignoring this."

Mr. Cohen- Rob- smiled evilly when his wife was out of view. "This should teach you not to act like that towards your elders you little piece of shit." He whispered cruelly.

Mark whimpered softly to himself, trying to prepare himself for the worst.

But what happened next was unpredictable. Mr. Cohen yanked Mark to his feet. Slowly, but surely, his hands crept around the boy's neck. I waited for the steady intake of breath, but it never came.

"Mark," I said carefully, "Breathe."

And then it hit me- he couldn't. I watched with much pain as Mark's face turned red and then blue. His heartbeat seemed to steadily become fainter and fainter. Tears welled in my eyes as the steady rhythm went down and down.

Just when I thought it was all over for the poor boy, Mr. Cohen released his grip and Mark fell to the floor, gasping for breath.

"That'll teach you." Mr. Cohen said stoutly before exiting the room.

I started crying, as did Mark. We sat on the floor all night, just crying in the arms of the other.


	18. Chapter 18

**Gah, I'm page filling. Although…this IS a pretty important chapter. May writer's block die a slow and painful death.**

"Mark Cohen tell me what happened." Bethany demanded.

"No."

It was the next day, and Bethany was curious about the bruises on Mark's neck.

"Mark, I'm your friend. You can trust me."

Mark just grunted, taking his Bar Mitzvah pictures out of their casing from the pharmacist. "C'mon Bethany," he said, "Let's look at these. I haven't seen them yet."

The flipped through photos until they came to the one they were looking for. Both kids smiled, as did I. Mark's first kiss was forever captured in time on a 6 by 4 piece of paper. How sweet.

"That was some night," Mark mused, grinning.

"Mark," Bethany said unsurely, "I have something to tell you."

Mark looked up tentatively. "What is it?"

Bethany sighed before looking him straight in the eye. "I'm moving to Boston."

Mark just stood there dumbstruck, his eyes wide. This was the last thing he needed.

**Break Here**

It was six in the morning and Mark had biked over the Bethany's house to say goodbye. The weeks had flown by and the dreaded day was upon them. Both kids bit their lips, trying to hold back tears.

"Goodbye Mark," Bethany's mom said, handing him a tin, "I know you like my sugar cookies. These should last you a while."

Mark smiled. "Thanks."

Bethany's mom went back inside the house to discuss something with her husband. Mark turned to Bethany, opening his mouth to say something, but he shut it abruptly and just gave her a hug.

"I'll write." He said finally.

Bethany nodded.

"Come on Bethany!" Her father shouted, "Time to go!"

Bethany gave her friend a quick peck on the lips before running into the car. As it pulled by, both kids waved to each other. Even after the car was out of sight, Mark just stood there, waving goodbye. Finally, he picked up his bike and rode home.

**Break Here**

"Where have you been?" Mr. Cohen asked as soon as Mark had entered the house.

"Saying goodbye to Bethany. She's moving to Boston." He answered.

"Not a good enough excuse."

Mark just rolled his eyes and muttered to himself, "It's not an excuse, it's the _truth_."

I looked at my Mark sadly. His two friends were gone. Who knew what would happen to the poor boy now?


	19. Chapter 19

**Gosh, I'm an updating machine today! Enjoy (this is actually quite a tame chapter). **

It had been a year since Bethany had moved away and Mark hadn't received one letter, despite the fact he'd sent about one every week. He was miserable all the time and I was worried for my Mark.

"Oh look Rob!" Mrs. Cohen said happily, "Cindy's getting married to that nice Bryan fellow in a few months."

Mark rolled his eyes. Another reason why dad loved Cindy a billion times more than him.

"And look," Mrs. Cohen added, "It's in Boston."

Mark perked up. What was so special about Boston? Boston…Boston…oh my. Boston. That's where Bethany had moved to.

"Boston?" he asked, "Are you sure it's Boston? Because if it isn't Boston…"

"Mark!" Mrs. Cohen cut him off, "I'm sure it's Boston. And I know what you're going to ask. If there's time and they're willing to have you over, then yes."

Mark smiled and gave him mother a hug. "Oh thank you!" he whispered happily.

"What's he thanking you for?" Mr. Cohen asked, walking into the kitchen, "Please don't tell me you splurged on the boy."

"Now Rob," Mrs. Cohen said, "Mark didn't do anything wrong. But no, I didn't splurge on him. Cindy's getting married in Boston, and that's where Mark's friend moved. I told him he could see her if there was time."

Mr. Cohen couldn't seem to find anything nasty to say about the situation, so he retrieved a can of soda from the fridge and went back into the living room. Finally.

**Break Here**

"Hi Mrs. Forth, it's Mark. Is Bethany there?" Mark asked, twisting the telephone cord around his finger.

I strained to hear Mrs. Forth's respond, but it didn't quite work.

"Oh, she's not?" Mark said disappointedly, followed by a pause, "Actually, yes, you can help me. We're heading to Boston for a weekend because my sister is getting married. Do you think I could stop by and say hi?"

There was a pause, and a wide smile crept across Mark's face. "Thank you Mrs. Forth. Yeah, exactly a month from now. See you soon!"

Mark hung up the phone, smiling widely. He went over to his calendar and marked a little box. _Cindy's getting married. I get to see Bethany!_


	20. Chapter 20

**Somewhat happier chapter to prepare you for the next one. Enjoy.**

"Daddy!" Cindy shrieked, running over to her family, "Mom!"

Cindy hug her parents, allowing her long brown hair to fall out of place. Mark stood behind them, smiling. Cindy was definitely his favorite of the three.

"And little Marky," Cindy said, breaking the hug. She walked over to her brother and squeezed his cheek playfully before giving him a little kiss on the forehead.

"Hey!" A man said teasingly, "What about me?"

It was Bryan. They laughed and he lovingly tucked his fiancé's loose hair behind her ears before giving her a quick kiss.

"Mom, Dad, Mark," Cindy began, "This is Bryan. I know you've him before."

Everyone said their hellos, and then Bryan asked, "Hey, do you mind if I steal Mark here? I think I'd like to bond with the guy."

Cindy nodded. "Oh Bryan," she said sweetly, "That's so sweet. Have fun you two. We'll meet you at the hotel in a couple hours."

The Cohen's walked off and Bryan led Mark to his car. "Hey Mark-o," he asked, "You like football?"

"Please don't call me that." Mark said seriously, diverting his eyes to the ground.

Bryan looked puzzled. "Why not?"

"I had a friend who called me that. But then his wife, and my friend, died and he left to across the country. Just, please."

Bryan nodded. "Alright," he said, "Well, _Mark_, wanna toss the pigskin around?"

Mark smiled. His own father had never done that with him. Maybe this was a good sign. "Sure." He answered.

**Break Here**

"C'mon Mark," Bryan said, "It's time to go. We're late as it is."

Mark smiled, tossing the football back. They'd been playing catch for the past few hours, and they had really bonded. They trekked back to the car, smiling. I liked this Bryan fellow. Things grew awkwardly silent as they entered the car.

"Mark," Bryan began, "You're a great kid, especially knowing all the shit that's happened to you. Yes, Cindy told me what your dad did."

Mark blushed. "Oh…thanks." He said softly.

"But, even though you're cool and all, I'd prefer you didn't hang around that much. Cindy told me specifically that this is the last time she wants to see her family."

"Why?"

"She doesn't mind you and your mom that much, but apparently, your dad did the same things to her, though a bit more extreme. Just, just don't come around that much Mark. And please, don't call." Bryan requested, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Alright," Mark answered in a whisper, looking out the window and wiping away tears on me.


	21. Chapter 21

**The ending of this chapter just kinda…happened. It was going to end when he walked out of where you're going to read about, but I needed to make the chapter longer. I think it's quite powerful actually. Enjoy!**

"Remember Mark," Mrs. Cohen warned, "You can't stay too long."

"Yes Mom," Mark answered, stuffing me in his pocket.

He walked up the steps and rang the bell. He, after more than a year, was going to talk to Bethany.

"Mark!" Mrs. Forth said happily, opening the door, "So nice to see you! My you've gotten tall. Come in, come in!"

Mark smiled and entered the house, the air conditioning overpowering us. He dug me back out of his pocket and wrapped me around his neck snugly.

"Bethany!" Mrs. Forth called up the stairs, "Someone's here to see you!"

"One sec!" Bethany yelled back.

Mark stood there awkwardly, fiddling with me like always as Mrs. Forth disappeared into the kitchen. Soon, Bethany came running down the stairs in a glittery, pink miniskirt and skimpy hot, pink tank top. When she saw us, she stopped, still about halfway down the stairs.

"Oh," she said, trying to hide her disappointment, "It's you."

Mark let out a small smile. "Hi Bethany," he said, "It's nice to see you. You've, er, _changed_."

"Unlike you." She responded rudely.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mark asked.

"Well, Mark," Bethany answered cruelly, "You're still a nerd. You still spike your hair in the same geeky way. And you still have that dorky scarf. I can't believe I was ever your friend."

Mark paled and I glared daggers at Bethany. She had changed in more than one way.

"At least I'm still nice!" Mark protested, "Now you're just a little slut!"

Bethany ogled Mark and he put his hands over his mouth as if to say 'I can't believe I just said that'.

Bethany eyes turned to slits angrily as she stormed down the stairs and slapped Mark hard on the cheek. "Get out!" she screamed.

"With pleasure!" He yelled back storming out the door.

"Mark," I said soothingly, "Are you okay?"

But he wouldn't answer me. He just kept walking angrily down the sidewalk until he approached the docks. The air was thick with salt and Mark took a deep breath, walking to the end of the boardwalk, which was high above the icy waters.

He climbed up onto the railing and held his arms out. "It would be so easy," he whispered, "So incredibly easy to just fall. No more worries."

Suddenly, I realized what he was talking about. "No Mark," I said worriedly, "Don't do it. Please don't do it."

A familiar car drove by. It was Bryan. He was most likely on his way to pick Mark up from Bethany's house.

"Wait Bryan!" I yelled, "Wait!"

For some reason, the car slowed. I watched as Bryan looked out the window of his rusted, red car. I saw his eyes widen when he saw exactly what his soon-to-be brother-in-law was doing. Without even turning off the car, he jumped out and began running down the Boardwalk frantically. Mark didn't seem to notice. All of his attention was fixated on the cruel waters below.

"So easy," he kept muttering, "So easy."

Mark flinched when he felt Bryan's strong hand on his shoulder, pulling the boy onto the safety of the wooden planks.

"God Mark!" Bryan yelled, "What were you thinking?"

The man pulled the boy into a hug and the three of us just sat there for what seemed to be forever, crying.


	22. Chapter 22

**I think you'll enjoy this chapter…………**

It was over. We sat in bed, and Mark stared up at the familiar ceiling of his room in Scarsdale. Cindy was married and she and Bryan were now honeymooning in Paris. Bryan had sworn not to tell anyone what had happened at the boardwalk, and I could tell Mark was grateful for it. In not too long, Mark would be starting high school. I couldn't believe my Mark was that old already. It seemed like just yesterday he was finger-painting in Ms. Pratt's class.

**Break Here**

It was a cool September day. Mark trudged off the bus towards the gigantic building in front of him- Scarsdale High School.

"Hey, look!" an older boy said to his friends, "Geeky freshman."

"Who's gonna be our victim this year?" the other asked.

"How about him?" A third suggested, pointing to Mark.

"He'll do."

It was going to be a long year.

**Break Here**

Soon, it was Halloween. The days seemed to go by in a blur for Mark. Wake up. Get abused by Dad. Go to school. Get abused by classmates. Go home. Get abused by Dad some more. Go to sleep. Repeat. It was a horrible, vicious cycle that seemed to have no end.

For once, Mark came home to an empty house. Not wasting a moment, he grabbed a sheet of paper and began to write furiously. I read over his shoulder, my heart pounding.

_Dear World,_

_For the past almost fifteen years I've put up with your cruelty. You teased me by giving me friends and then snatching them away. You've given me a family that abuses me and ignores the facts. I haven't a friend in a long time. Well, you won't be able to hurt me anymore. I'm done putting up with this, so I'm going to stop it once and for all._

_-Mark_

My eyes widened. "Oh God no," I whispered, my eyes filling with tears, "You can't Mark."

I started crying as Mark got up and left his bedroom, returning with a sharp knife.

"Bryan isn't here to save me this time." He mumbled.

With set determination, he brought the blade to his wrist.

"No Mark!" I called, "Just listen!"

As if he could hear me, he stopped, confusion written all over his face.

"Just give it one day," I pleaded, "One day. See if anyone is nice to you. God, I can't live without you Mark. Please, please."

Slowly, almost mechanically, he put the knife down. "One day," he whispered, "That's all I'm giving it. One day."

I collapsed with relief.

**Break Here**

The day had started like usual. The Cohen's, having gone out of town to visit Cindy, had left Mark home alone. He quickly got dressed and ate breakfast. Instead of taking the bus like usual, he rid his bike to school. I could tell he was purposely avoiding human contact. He really didn't want to live.

Mark got to school way before the bell had rang. With nothing better to do, he began walking around the property. I scanned the area, looking for a potential friend for Mark.

I noticed a wannabe rocker standing not to far away. I quickly dismissed him as any kind of friend for anyone. I was about to continue my search when I noticed the loneliness in his bright green eyes. This boy needed a friend too.

I felt the wind tickle me as an idea popped into my head. This had to work, or all hope would be lost. Allowing myself to go completely limp, the wind quickly picked me up and I flew off Mark's neck. The frantic look in his eye made me feel terrible- I was his only friend- but it would be worth it if this worked out.

"Wait!" Mark called hysterically, chasing after me, "Catch that scarf!"

The wind stopped and I landed right at the feet of the rocker. Perfect. He picked me up just as Mark approached.

"This yours?" the boy asked.

"Yes!" Mark said, "Thanks."

"No problem."

The boys stood there awkwardly for a moment before the boy said, "I'm Roger Davis."

"I'm Mark Cohen."

"Are you doing anything after school?"

Mark smiled, as did I. "No." Mark answered.

"Wanna come over my house after school?" Roger asked, "I've seen you around. Looks like you could use a friend."

"Yeah," Mark replied, "That'd be great."

My plan had worked perfectly.


	23. Chapter 23

**It's short, but it's also, like, the fourth posting today, so it's allowed to be short. Enjoy!**

One month. Was that really all it had been? One month since Roger had saved Mark. One month since Mark had really began to live life. One month since the two had become best friends, sharing a bond of steel.

It was Roger's sixteenth birthday (he'd been held back a year, so he was still a freshman), and he'd invited Mark to sleepover in celebration. Of course, it was at the Davis' house. Roger hadn't been to the Cohen household yet.

"Why hello Mark," Mrs. Davis said kindly, "Roger's in the basement. Here, let me hang up your coat."

Mark shed his jacket and then made his way downstairs, where Roger was playing a beat-up, forever-out-of-tune, almost fake guitar. He hated the thing, actually. Mark knew he wanted a real, good instrument.

"Hey birthday boy," Mark said, "Open your present."

With much difficulty, Mark handed the large box to his friend.

Roger eagerly ripped off the paper and opened the package. It was a new fender guitar.

"I'll be mowing lawns until I'm fifty," Mark joked when he saw Roger's stunned face.

"But…how? Why?"

"You're the only friend I've got Roger. You deserve this."

"Aw, thanks buddy."


	24. Chapter 24

**This chapter is actually pretty long! And now that Roger's been introduced, the story SHOULD be getting happier, but I'm not making any promises. Enjoy!**

"Mooooooooooom," Mark whined, "I'm going to be late!"

"No you won't sweetie!" Mrs. Cohen insisted, "Anyway, I'd rather have you be late than forget something. Now, did you pack enough socks? Underwear?"

"Yes mom," Mark said mechanically, plopping down in a chair.

The Davis' had invited Mark to come with them on a trip to New York City over Christmas break. Chanukah was long over, so that was no problem and Mark was only more than happy to be able to escape his family for a few days.

**Break Here**

"Finally!" Roger called as the Cohen's car pulled into the driveway, "I thought you'd never come!"

"Same." Mark said, wrapping me tighter around his neck to keep out the bitter air.

"Here Mark," Mr. Davis said kindly, "Let me take your bag so I can pack it away. We'll be leaving in just a few minutes boys. Don't forget to use the bathroom. I don't want another take of our Baltimore trip."

Roger blushed a deep shade of red and Mark laughed. It was going to be a great weekend.

**Break Here**

"Wow…" Both boys gasped as they entered the city, their eyes wide as they gazed longingly as the skyscrapers and busy sidewalks.

Mr. Davis chuckled. "Some sight, isn't it boys?"

Mark and Roger just nodded, unable to say a word.

Mrs. Davis laughed. "Oh Hugh," she teased, "If the boys have been quiet for this long, we should visit the city more often!"

The adults laughed, but Roger and Mark were too awestruck to notice.

"Hey Roger?" Mark whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for inviting me."

Roger smiled, taking his eyes off the city on the other side of the window to look at his friend. "No problem buddy."

**Break Here**

"Mark," Roger pleaded, "Please tell me where those are from."

Mark's eyes fell to the floor as he sat stiffly on his hotel bed. It had been a long day of touring the city and now both boys were _supposed_ to be asleep, especially seeing as it was three in the morning. As they were getting ready to _finally_ go to bed, Roger had noticed the bruises on Mark's pale body and was insisting that his friend tell them where they were from. Mark had placed me around his neck, a typical thing for comfort, and refused to speak.

"C'mon Mark," I cooed, "Tell the guy. He's your friend."

"I…" Mark said meekly before dipping back into silence.

"Mark," Roger said, "I'm your friend. I'm not going to think any less of you."

"Promise?" Mark asked, his blue eyes opened wide.

Roger nodded.

Mark took a deep breath before saying, "It's my dad. He…god this is hard to say…he abuses me. Has done so since I was little. I can never do anything right in his eyes. He even hurt Cindy, perfect Cindy. Of course, she's a girl, so things went a little further if you get what I'm saying. I…I can't escape it. He-"

Mark was cut off by his own tears, falling bitterly onto his lap. Roger got up off the floor and put his arm around his friend's shoulders.

"It's okay Mark," he reassured, "Someday we'll run away. And we'll come here, to New York City. I'll be a Rocker Sex God and you'll be a famous cameraman. We'll be filthy rich and live like kings! And we'll never talk to our families again, cause they never gave a shit about us."

Mark wiped his wet eyes on me, smiling weakly at Roger's planned career. "Promise?"

Roger smiled. "Cross my heart and hope to die a long, painful death."


	25. Chapter 25

**Enjoy! Sorry for the long wait (at least it seemed long to me). I couldn't think of what to write, but I obviously figured it out. It might seem like a sad chapter, but it's all leading up to somewhere.**

"Oh Roger," Mark pleaded, a smile plastered on his face, "I can't do this!"

"Stop being such a wimp," Roger teased, "She likes you."

"No she doesn't," Mark said meekly. His self-esteem had been badly damaged over the years, and it was hard for him to think of himself in high standards. Luckily, Roger was helping him with that.

"It's not even a date!" Roger insisted, "It's just a few tango lessons."

"A few NONREFUNDABLE tango lessons that cost me a months allowance." Mark added.

"Exactly," Roger said, pulling his friend into the Scarsdale Jewish Community Center by his scarf, me, "Now go get 'em tiger."

**Break Up**

"Pair up!" the instructor, some guy named Gary, said.

Mark watched in horror as Nanette Himmelfarb, the rabbi's daughter, made a beeline towards him. He loosened me as he gasped for breath, his hands sweaty with nervousness. I couldn't help but laugh at the situation.

"Come here hot stuff," she whispered, her eyes aflame with, no pun intended, burning passion.

Mark gulped and forced a smile. Poor guy. I already didn't like this girl. She was too…ick. Words didn't describe how completely awful she was.

Mark's eyes bulged as they began to tango and she pulled her dancing partner dangerously close. Stupid, seductive, sexual girl. She was the RABBI'S daughter for gosh sake! I rolled my eyes, as she slowly licked her lips. What had Roger gotten Mark into?

**Break Here**

"How'd it go Romeo?" Roger asked when the hour was up.

Mark shuddered before mounting his bike. "God Roger," he said, "I hate you."

"You won't be saying that to long from now," Roger said mysteriously.

I rolled my eyes simultaneously with Mark. Roger was one perverted son of a gun.

**Break Here**

"Hey Marky," Nanette said seductively, slowly climbed onto the handlebars of the boy's bike, her skirt sneaking up her thigh, "How's it going baby?"

Mark broke out in a nervous sweat as Nanette began fiddling with me roughly. I _really_ didn't like this girl, but she had Mark wrapped around her bony finger. "H-h-h-hi N-N-Nanette," Mark stuttered, "H-h-how are y-you?"

"I've been having a bad day," she whined, twirling her sandy hair around her finger, "But I know how you can make it better."

"Ho-" Mark began to ask, but was interrupted by Nanette's lips. I saw Roger wolf howling and whistling (like they do in the cartoons when they're in love) in the background before heading off with his girlfriend, Donna I think. Some friend he was.


	26. Chapter 26

**A whole bunch of things… 1. I don't care if the tango isn't about passion. That line kinda turns out to important later on in the story. 2. Sorry this is so depressing, but I had writer's block and this was all I could think of. 3. This is actually a pretty long chapter! 4. Enjoy!**

"The tango is about passion," Gary instructed, "So to pass this course, I need to sense passion. Let's begin."

The few weeks of tango lessons were up- in fact this was the last session. Mark sighed. "How am I supposed to get passionate with a girl I don't even like. She scares me." He mumbled inaudibly.

The first pair to go was a middle-aged couple looking for some more romance in their lives. "Remember people," Gary reminded, "Passion."

The couple danced, but I wasn't paying attention, and I could tell Mark wasn't either.

"C'mon!" Nanette squealed suddenly, dragging Mark by me onto the dance floor, "We're going next!"

Mark could do little but oblige. I had a bad feeling about this…

**Break Here**

"Mark," Gary said sadly, "How many times must I say it? _Passion_."

Mark grumbled, but I had to agree with Gary. That had been so soulless. It, quite frankly, had been pathetic.

**Break Here**

"C'mon Marky," Nanette whined, twisting me around her bony finger, a habit I hated, "You owe this to me."

I glared daggers at Nanette. She was pressuring my Mark into something he didn't want to do.

I could feel the sweat on his neck building up. He was nervous, and I didn't blame him. "W-w-why do I owe you a-a-anything?" Mark asked.

"For tangoing so awfully earlier," Nanette answered immediately, "I _know_ you can do better than that."

I knew he could too. Mark had practiced with Roger (after much bribing) almost everyday after school in the safety of Roger's basement.

"I dunno," Mark said hesitantly, beginning to give up, "I don't think this is such a good idea…"

"Marky," Nanette said, pulling him by me, again, into her bedroom, "My ideas are always good."

"Alright…"

"Oh Mark," I said, disappointed of my Mark for the first time, "How could you?"

**Break Here**

"Mark," Nanette said sternly when they were…finished, "I think we should break up."

Mark's eyes grew wide as he rolled out of bed and began tugging on his clothes. "Why?" he asked curiously, his blue eyes filled with sorrow.

She smirked. "I got what I wanted from you."

"I see."

**Break Here**

"She **_WHAT_**!" Roger asked angrily, holding his friend close as he cried into his shoulder.

"She ma-" Mark started.

"No!" Roger rushed, not wanting to hear the story again (as did I), "I mean, how could she dump you? You're a good guy Mark."

"I guess I'm not good enough." Mark said sadly.

I watched as Roger's face grew angry and he pushed Mark away roughly, still holding onto his shoulders tightly. "Don't say that ever again!" Roger threatened, "Or I'll have to personally kill you with my bare hands. You're better than anyone else I've ever met. Nanette's the whore that's going to hell. She's not good enough for you Mark."

**Break Here**

"Mark baby," Mrs. Cohen asked, noticed his tear-stained face as he walked into his home, "What's wrong?"

"I got dumped." He said quickly.

"Oh Mark," Mrs. Cohen said sympathetically, bringing her son into a hug and stroking his hair, making him burst out in tears again, "It's okay."

I watched as Mr. Cohen walked into the room. He yanked Mark away by the collar of his shirt and said, "Real men don't cry Mark. Are you _gay_? Because I don't want a queer living under my roof."

"No sir," Mark whispered, "I'm not gay."

"Good, then stop your crying and suck it up like a man…queer."

Mark hung his head shamefully. What a day this had been.


	27. Chapter 27

**Another long chapter! And good news, it's less choppy (thanks a ton Sargent Snarky!) and it's pretty cheery too! Enjoy!**

Mark walked boldly into the Scarsdale Community Center, dragging Roger by his forest-green jacket sleeve.

"Mark," he whined, "I don't want to do this."

"You made me, and now I'm making you."

"This isn't fair."

"Life isn't fair Roger, get over it."

That shut the rocker up.

"Hey Gary," Mark said timidly, entering the gym he'd grown to know so well, "I have a question."

The man took a shot on the basketball hoop, the ball going way off, before turning to the two boys.

"Yes Mark?"

"You said the tango was about passion," Mark said, "I wasn't passionate about my dance partner before. Frankly, I didn't like her. Roger here is my best friend. We've practiced the tango every day since the first session of class. I'd really like to show off my true colors."

Gary smiled. "Go ahead boys, I'm watching."

Mark took a deep breath before pulling Roger close. Roger blushed, knowing he was dancing the girl's part. I watched, breath taken, as their bright eyes met, filled with a brotherly love. Keeping one eye on the dancers, one on Gary, I watched them tango like I'd never seen anyone tango before.

Their movements were so swift and sharp, yet gentle, if that made any sense. Well, it did to me. I saw tears well in Gary's eyes. He was proud, as was I. It truly was a breath-taking sight. And when they finished, their eyes met again, shining and shimmering with pride and joy, their faces glistening with sweat.

Gary started clapping like a madman. I whistled. Roger and Mark blush, bowing.

"Mark!" Gary said happily, hugging them both, "I didn't know you had it in you. You never seemed interested during class and I tried so hard to get to you. This deserves a treat! Can I buy you boys a root beer float?"

"Sure!" Roger said happily, never being one to turn down ice cream (at least to my knowledge).

I'll meet you boys back here in fifteen minutes. I've gotta hit the showers." Gary said before running off to the locker room.

"Wanna play hoops?" Roger asked.

"Su-" Mark said, but he was interrupted by sarcastic clapping.

"Bravo." A voice said.

Mark and Roger turned to see who it was. I glared daggers at Nanette Himmelfarb, as did the boys.

"What do you want Na_slut_?" Roger asked.

"Well Wannabe Roger," Nanette began, "I came to talk to Marky here."

Mark cringed. "It's over Nanette," he said, "You said so yourself."

"Maybe so," she purred, walking up and rubbing her hips against Mark's and wrapping him up in me, "But if I want it back on, then it's back on. Oh Marky, you can have me back, you just have to tango like that with me."

Mark narrowed his eyes. "No." He answered simply.

"Why not?"

"Because you're a slut and a whore," Roger answered for his friend, "Because you forced your supposed boyfriend to do something he wasn't comfortable with. Because I'm his best friend and I don't approve of you."

I caught a bit of fire flash through Mark's eyes and I swear I saw a light bulb flash above his head.

"Don't be so hard on her Roger," Mark said, causing both people to gape at him.

"W-why?" Roger asked.

"Because poor, little, ugly, anorexic, fat Nanette here is just desperate for a fucking." Mark said defiantly.

Nanette glared, her mouth hanging open with shock. Roger broke out in a smile and high-five his friend. "Way to go Mark!" he said.

"Oh you _will_ pay," Nanette threatened, "You will pay."

"Oooo, I'm quaking in my boots," Mark whined.

Nanette glared at both of them equally before walking off. Mark just stood there, as if in shock at what he just said.

"I can't believe you just told off the hottest girl at school." Roger said.

"Me neither."

Gary came jogging up to them, his thinning, brown hair still damp. "Ready for those root beer floats?" he asked happily.

Roger and Mark smiled, nodding. "Yeah, we're ready."


	28. Chapter 28

**Sorry this is short, but I have to figure out what's going to happen. Suggestions for the party are welcome (you'll see…). Yeah, I'm the type that just writes and doesn't plan ahead most of the time. Smite me. Enjoy! **

It was the next day at school when it happened. Roger and Mark were sitting in class, chatting before the announcements started, the true 'bell'.

"Good morning Scarsdale High," Nanette's voice said, "Here are today's announcements. The basketball team won against Thomas Jefferson High School 54 to 48. There is a mandatory meeting for anyone who wants to be on the football team next year in Mr. Dublin's room. Please don't forget to buy a Scarsdale High sweatshirt to help spread school spirit. A whole fifteen percent of all sales will go to help the school. And an extra special announcement. There will be a Coming-Out Party at my house after school at six to help celebrate the coming-out of Roger Davis and Mark Cohen. That's right everyone, they've finally announced their undying love for each other and the masculine part of the human race. See you there! And that's all of this morning's announcements. Have a nice day!"

As soon as the announcements clicked off laughter erupted. Even the teacher was having a tough time keeping a straight face. Mark's face turned bright red and he resembled a tomato with hair and a body.

"That whore!" Roger hissed into Mark's ear, "I can't believe she did that!"

Too embarrassed to say anything, Mark just nodded. I, for one, was still in shock. That was a flat-out lie! I can't believe she would stoop so low, though this _is_ Nanette we're talking about.

"Hey Mark," Roger whispered mischievously, "Wanna go to our own Coming-Out party?"

Mark nodded, confused. What did Roger have up his sleeve this time? But Mark didn't have a chance to ask because the laughter had died down and the teacher was beginning to start class.

I couldn't figure out what Roger's plan was even after thinking about it all day. Soon enough though, it was five thirty and Mark was biking over to Roger's house. What did they have up their sleeve? It didn't help that they'd talked about it on the phone…while I was sitting on the table in the other room.

"Mark what's going on?" I asked.

But Mark didn't answer, he just kept biking. He arrived at Roger's house and they stashed the bike in the garage.

"Ready to go?" Roger asked.

Mark nodded nervously. "Ready as I'll ever be."

What were they up to?


	29. Chapter 29

**Well, I thought of my own idea, but thank you to Tiggpwns for the Erica idea (you'll see). Enjoy!**

Mark and Roger snuck into Nanette's party unnoticed. They slowly made their way to a corner and leaned in so they barely had to whisper to hear each other.

"Let's crash this party!" Roger muttered.

"Good idea."

The two of them headed over to the punchbowl and Roger pulled out a full bottle of rum and a half-full of bottle of gin, smiling evilly.

"Knowing you, I'm half-surprised it wasn't rat poison and lead-based paint." Mark mused with a grin.

"I just want to crash the party," Roger replied, "Not kill it, though rat poison and paint isn't a bad idea."

The rocker discreetly dumped the bottles' contents into the bowl and they snuck off again into the shadows. They then made their way over to the tape player and pushed in a tape of Beethoven and Mozart they'd swiped from Mrs. Cohen.

Then they made their way into the backyard. Roger pulled two mini squirt guns from his pocket. They filled the guns up with the hose. Then, leaving it running, the stuck the flowing tube of rubber in an empty window.

They then made their way to the bathroom and flushed the toilet numerous times in a row.

I thought they were done, but I guess Mark and Roger had other things planned.

"Hey Nanette!" Mark called above the crowd, "We're here!"

"Stop the music everyone!" Nanette called, "Our guests of honor are here!"

The music stopped and the boys grinned, knowing what would play when they turned it back on.

"Nanette," Mark said, "Thank you so much for this party. But if I was gay would I do this?"

Right then and there he pulled Nanette into a kiss. She screamed and turned to run, but Roger got her first, doing the same as his friend.

This made Nanette yell even louder and Mark and Roger grinned. This had to be the end.

"Hey Nanette!" Roger called as they were about to walk out the door, "How do my kisses compare to Erica's?"

Nanette screamed in fury and turned on the music, but not before everyone could start laughing. They only laughed harder when they heard the classical music begin to play.

"Whatkindof shitisthis?" One boy slurred, having drunken to much punch.

Before Mark and Roger could completely leave, they heard some one yell, "Oh my god! The toilet is flooding! Ew, gross!"

Roger and Mark high-fived and I smiled. Leave it to Roger to think of something as ingeniously evil as that.


	30. Chapter 30

**It's short, but I had to get it out and this seemed like as good a place to stop as any. It explains the squirt guns that weren't used in chapter 29, which is why I wanted to get it out so quickly. Enjoy!**

"Um, Mark…?" Roger said questioningly, shifting away from his friend as they walked back to the Davis' house, "Did you have to go to the bathroom before we left?"

"No, why?"

Roger pointed to the front of Mark's pants, which sported a patch of wet darkness.

"Oh shit!" Mark said, pulling something out of his pocket, "We forgot about the squirt guns! It happened to you too!"

"Damn!"

"Hey Roger?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I crash at your place tonight?"

"I was planning on it."

"Oh, and Roger?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I borrow a pair of pants?"

Roger smiled. "Sure."

**I hate to do it, but…Break Here**

"Mark!" Mrs. Davis called down the stairs, trying to wake up her son's friend, "Your mom just called. She wants you back home in an hour."

Both boys groaned, rubbing their heads.

"That was some night," Roger said happily.

"Yeah, and look, my pants are dry!"

Roger cheered. "C'mon Mark," he said after his friend was ready, "I think I smell waffles."

"Roger! Mark!" Mrs. Davis yelled as if on cue, "Breakfast is ready! I made waffles!"


	31. Chapter 31

**Wow, I haven't updated in three days. That's a first. I usually update everyday (multiple times). Oh well, chapter 31 is finally here! Sorry for the long wait (and the shortness), I couldn't think of what to write, but I finally figured it out (obviously). Enjoy and thanks for reading everyone!**

After breakfast, Mark biked home ASAP- as slow as possible. We both had a feeling that something bad awaited at the end of the trip.

After making a detour of Scarsdale, Mark finally biked up the driveway and put his bike away, slowly making his way to the house. We heard yelling before we even reached the front door.

"Mark Leopold Cohen!" Mrs. Cohen shouted, running out the door, "Where on Earth have you been? You're in big trouble young man!"

She roughly ushered her son into the house, where an angry Mr. Cohen was standing, his arms crossed across his chest impatiently and his foot tapping crossly. Mark hung his head shamefully, walking slowly into the room, his mom close behind.

"We got an…_interesting_ phone call from Rabbi Himmelfarb yesterday," Mr. Cohen started.

Mark gulped with worry. "What did he say?" he asked weakly.

"Well, he said a lot of things, but two stick out in my mind," Mr. Cohen answered, "One, I've heard that Nanette was throwing a _coming-out_ party for you and Roland…"

"Roger." Mark corrected.

Mr. Cohen continued without acknowledging his son's words, "…Coming-out as in _gay_. I thought we had this discussion. I don't want a queer in my house."

"I'm not gay!" Mark protested.

"What a rude little boy," Mr. Cohen spat, "Don't interrupt. And the second thing was that you and Ruther…"

"Roger."

"…trashed your own coming-out party."

Mark blushed, smiling, and I could tell he was recalling the past night's events.

"By the look on your face," Mr. Cohen mused, "I can tell I'm correct."

Mark snapped back into reality. "I'm not gay!" he objected.

"But you didn't say anything about not crashing the party,"

Mark blushed an even darker red.

"So you did?"

"Maybe."

Mr. Cohen's eyes became tiny, angry slits. "So you admit it. Mark, I don't want you spending time with Ralph anymore. He's a bad influence. And if I see you with him OR doing anything as irresponsible as you did last night you'll be out of this house faster than you can say a word."

"But…but…" Mark stuttered, "That's not fair! He's my only friend!"

"I didn't ask you if it was fair," Mr. Cohen said, "I just told you what you cannot do and what the consequences will be if it happens. Now go up to your room and think about what I just said."

Mark pouted, storming up the stairs. He sat on his bed for a while before a look of mischief crossed his face.

"Dad said not to spend time with _Ralph_," Mark mused, "He said nothing about _Roger_."


	32. Chapter 32

**I'm SO sorry for the long wait! I couldn't figure out what to write. But I did (obviously) and I have a feeling you guys are really going to like this chapter…**

"Hey Roger!" Mark said, running up to his friend, "Wanna get together after school."

"Sorry buddy," Roger said, patting Mark's shoulder brotherly, "I can't. My dad's having friends over and my mom's out of town. I'm not even allowed in the house. He gave me a fifty and said to 'entertain myself'. Some dad he is. Anyway, the only way we'd be able to hang out is if I went to your house."

I watched as Mark went pale. He'd told me himself- at all costs he didn't want Roger at his house, for a few reasons.

He didn't want a repeat of what happened with Bethany.

He knew that Roger's sometimes-hot temper would cause a lot of trouble with his dad.

Why spend time at home when you could be somewhere else?

"Well," Mark said hesitantly, "Um. Er. Uh."

"Mark," Roger said in a concerned tone, "Does this have anything to do with your dad?"

"No," Mark said quickly, "Maybe. Kinda. Sorta. Yes, it does."

Roger took a deep breath. "It'll be okay Mark, trust me. Just let me come over your house after school, okay?"

"Okay," Mark said reluctantly, not really sure whether or not to trust his friend or not.

**Break Here**

"You have a beautiful house Mrs. Cohen," Roger complimented.

"Why thank you Roger," Mrs. Cohen said, blushing, "Would you boys like some cookies and milk?"

"Sure." Roger answered, having heard from Mark that his mom's cookies were to die for.

After a nice snack, the boys made their way to Mark's room.

"Hey, what's this?" Roger asked, reaching out to take Mark's camera off the shelf.

"Don't touch that!" Mark yelled frantically, rushing over and snatching the camera out of Roger's hands, "Only I can touch it!"

"Whoa! Chill!" Roger said, gladly handing the camera to his friend.

"I, I'm sorry," Mark whispered, stroking his camera, "A special person gave this to me for my bar mitzvah before she died. I don't really like when people touch it."

"I understand," Roger said, "I won't let anyone touch my guitar."

Mark smiled, but it turned upside-down when he heard an all-too-familiar voice shout, "Mark! Where are you? You're in big trouble young man!"

Mark whimpered softly, gently putting down his camera and fiddling with me (as he usually did when he was nervous).

"Roger, you better go," he whispered, "Please."

"No," Roger said defiantly, "I won't leave you here alone."

As 'alone' faded from Roger's lips, Mr. Cohen burst in the door. He immediately made his way over to Mark and shoved him against the wall.

"What did I tell you yesterday?" he yelled, "What did I say about spending time with Roger?"

Roger gave Mark a thumbs-up. "Be bold," he mouthed.

A little flame flickered in Mark's eyes. "You said nothing about Roger. You only said I couldn't spend time with Ralph, which I haven't done."

Mr. Cohen's face turned red. "You knew perfectly well what I meant!" he said.

"Apparently not." Mark said simply.

"Where did the petrified, sniveling little wimp with the low self-esteem go?" Mr. Cohen asked rudely.

"He died," Mark answered, "You created him and Roger destroyed him…for good."

"Get out."

"With pleasure."

"Tomorrow morning Mark," Mr. Cohen said, "I don't want to find you in this house. Nor the day after or the day after or the day after. Unless you're willing to obey my rules, I don't want you back in this house."

Mark smiled. "You know Mr. Cohen," he said, "That may have been the nicest thing you've said or done for me. Thanks!"

Mr. Cohen's face turned bright red and he stormed out of the room.

"Hey Roger?"

"Of course you can."

"Thanks."


	33. Chapter 33

**Please don't kill me because of this chapter! PLEASE! I promise, everything is going to be worked out!**

"Mark Leopold Cohen where do you think you're going?" Mrs. Cohen asked, crossing her arms and tapping her foot angrily when she saw her son sneaking out the door with a suitcase.

Mark set down his bag and started fiddling with me. "Mom, Dad kicked me out. I'm going to go live with Roger."

"Oh sweetie," Mrs. Cohen said, rushing over to her son and giving him a hug, "He didn't mean that. He loves you."

"No he doesn't," Mark protested, "He really doesn't. He abused Cindy and me for too long. Cindy escaped and now it's my turn. Please Mom, you have to let me go. It's for the best."

"I guess you're right," Mrs. Cohen said hesitantly, "But I'm going to miss my little boy so much!"

"I'm not a kid anymore," Mark said, "I'm almost sixteen."

"I know that sweetie, but I don't want to give you up yet. I'm not ready."

Mark gave his mom a hug, resulting in my being squished between their two bodies.

"Here Mom, I have an idea," Mark said excitedly, "I'll use my camera. I'll tape everything- me, my friends, where I'm living- and I'll make a copy of the reel and send it to you so you can still watch me grow up. Is that okay?"

Mrs. Cohen wiped away the tears that were forming in her eyes. "I guess it will have to do."

"Aw, that's so sweet Mark," I said, and then froze, "Wait a second. No. No, no, no, no, no! I won't allow it! You can't do this to me Mark! Now you're going to FRICKEN OBSESS OVER THAT STUPID CAMERA! I HATE THE STUPID CAMERA!"

Mark dug out his camera and said, "January twenty-third, 1982, Eastern Standard Time. I'm leaving the Cohen household for good. Here's my mom, all sad because her little boy is leaving. And now she wants proof that I'll keep my promise and remember it, so here it is. I promise to document my life to the best of my ability and send my mom a copy of each reel so she can watch me grow up." -he turned the camera- "Happy Mom?"

She smiled. "Yes."

The camera then turned to me and said "Haha, he loves me more!"

That's when I got _REALLY_ mad. "YOU STUPID, FILTY CAMERA! I HATE YOU, HATE YOU, HATE YOU! YOU'RE A FRICKEN SUCK UP! MARK LOVES ME MORE! HE HATES YOU COMPARED TO HOW MUCH HE LOVES ME! I'VE KNOWN HIM SINCE HE WAS FIVE FRICKEN YEARS OLD! HE BARELY EVEN USES YOU! DIE! DIE! DIE!"

And that's when I draped myself around the stupid-butt camera and started strangling it.

"DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE!" I chanted maniacally.

"Help me Mark!" the camera cried pitifully.

That's when he noticed what I was doing.

"Stupid scarf," he muttered, pulling me away, "That's worth more than you are."

I immediately stopped. No, this couldn't be happening. He so didn't just say that! Say it ain't so!

The camera smirked. "I told you he loves me more."

I just hung there, dumbstruck, as Mark mounted his bike. What, what was going on? What happened to the Mark that said I was the best present he'd ever gotten? The Mark that told me all of his secrets? I wanted that Mark back. I started crying. Why had Mark turned on me? What had I done wrong?

"Why Mark?" I asked, "Why? Don't you love me anymore?"

By the look on his face, Mark seemed to be battling with a little voice inside his head. I hoped and hoped he'd say something comforting to me, but he never did. I hugged him tighter and tighter, wanting just to be held but he tugged me away.

"I swear this scarf hates me," he mused, "It's trying to strangle me AND my camera."

I pulled away. That couldn't be further from the truth. I loved Mark more than he'd ever realized, and he turned around and pushed all of my love into the ground.

And then an idea came to me.

"Oh Roger, you better be able to help me. YOU OWE ME A FAVOR!"

I felt a little better after that.


	34. Chapter 34

**Sorry for the delay (check chapter 14 of Santa Fe ((one of my other stories)) if you want the reason). Um, this chapter isn't terribly long, and I'm sorry for that. I hope you like this (I have a feeling you will)!**

Mark biked up the path to the Davis' door and softly knocked.

"Roger!" he hissed, "Open the damn door!"

As if on cue, the door slowly creaked open.

"Shut the fuck up!" Roger warned in a whisper, "You'll wake everyone up! My parents don't know you're coming. They think you're at military school."

Mark slowly wheeled his bike into the house and, with Roger's help, took it downstairs into the basement.

"Well, at least your parents aren't close with mine," Mark mused, "Or they'd catch on really quickly. Is this where I'm staying?"

Roger nodded. "Yup."

I surveyed the basement- a room only Roger and Mark had ever seen in the past ten years. A cot was set up in the corner with a big stack of blankets folded neatly on it. Roger had tacked a few of old posters to the walls, probably in hopes of making the room seem less dreary.

Mark smiled. "Thanks Roger."

"No problem. Well, I've gotta get to bed. We'll sneak you out of here somehow tomorrow morning for school. G'night."

"Night," Mark said, waving slightly as his friend ran up the stairs.

Mark sighed, looking around the room once more. "It'll have to do." He mused.

"Yes it will," I added, "But it's better than suffering under your dad's power."

"Yeah," Mark said absentmindedly, smiling slightly before unloading his bag into one of the dressers in the corner Roger had brought down a few months ago.

As soon as everything was unpacked, Mark sluggishly collapsed onto the cot and immediately fell asleep, his light snoring filling the thick silence.

"What's so great about him?" The camera suddenly asked, catching me off guard, "I mean, we've been battling over Mac for the past few years, but I don't get what's so great."

I stared at the camera, "You have much to learn," I answered, "First off, what's your name?"

"Camera."

"Okay, well, I'm Scarf. Anyway, his name isn't 'Mac', it's Mark. Mark Leopold Cohen. Mark is…amazing, though, I must admit, you probably wouldn't think so at first glance. He's cute, but not necessarily 'boyfriend' material. And he's really shy and quiet. Some of that is true, but that's not really Mark. He's just amazing."

"Well, what's so 'amazing' about Mark then?" Camera asked.

"Mark is so sweet and kind, though very quiet, except around Roger, and Bethany and Ms. Pratt before that. He just wants someone to love him. Ah, he's such a great kid."

"I still don't get it."

I smiled softly. "It's something you gain through experience I guess. You'll know what I mean eventually."

Camera nodded. "Okay. You know Scarf, I'm glad we had this talk."

"Me too."

"Hey Scarf?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we be friends?"

I smiled widely. "I'd like that Camera," I answered, "I'd like that very much."


	35. Chapter 35

**Sorry for the long wait! I…recovered earlier last week, but I didn't have time to update. I was planning to update last weekend, but I was too busy. I don't know how much I'm going to be able to update this week either (I'm SO busy!), but I'll try my best! And, good news! School lets out on the 16, so I can update a lot once that date rolls around. And, on top of that, this chapter is pretty long (at least longer than most of the others). Enjoy!**

I awoke to Mark's gentle snoring. Dim light softly poured through the little window towards the ceiling. I smiled contently and closed my eyes, allowing the light to envelope me in a pocket of serenity. Mark had always been a morning person, resulting in me following his suit. At first I grumbled at being up at what seemed to be 'un-earthly' hours, but I picked up the habit and now being up with the sun was like being tossed around in the dryer- my guilty pleasure.

I watched as Mark tossed and turned on his cot, mumbling in his sleep. "No," he whispered desperately, "No, come back!"

Small tears started to slowly flow down his cheeks. His arms flailed every which way, causing him to knock his glasses off of the cardboard box he'd rested them on near his cot. He kicked the numerous blankets off of his makeshift bed and began to shiver in the early morning chill.

I clucked my tongue and shook my head disapprovingly, smiling all the while. "What are we going to do with you Mark?" I teased.

The boy woke up with a start, glancing around the room wildly before spying me. In a mad dash he ran over and picked me up, sighing loudly and rubbing me along his smooth skin.

"I thought I'd lost you," he whispered, using me to wipe away his tears, a habit he hadn't been able to break since the first grade.

"Don't worry Mark," I reassured, "I'll always be here for you. _Always_."

Just then, Roger burst into the basement. "Hurry up!" he whispered harshly, "My Mom's running late, so she still isn't downstairs and my dad is just finished up with his shower. Quick! Just change really quickly and get outside before they come downstairs! You can brush your teeth and junk at school. I'll swipe you some breakfast!"

Mark was already done changing by the time Roger finished speaking. He nodded dutifully before wrapping me around his neck and picking up Camera. He quickly dashed into the bathroom and brushed his teeth and straightened out his hair before running up the stairs and slipping out the door, just as I saw Mr. Davis ramble down the stairs into the kitchen.

"Close call," I muttered as Mark hid behind a bush, catching his breath.

"Tell me about it," he whispered. As soon as he said it, a wild and confused look crossed his face. He shook his head and closed his eyes, muttering to himself inaudibly.

I watched, dumbstruck, as Mark winced, flinched and started yelling bloody murder.

"What the…?" I asked myself.

That's when I noticed the foil-wrapped muffin sitting in the soil and Roger laughing his head off.

"God Mark," he said between laughs, "You're such a wimp! All I did was throw the fucking muffin at you and you totally spazzed!"

Roger stopped his mockery abruptly as Mrs. Davis' shrill voice rang through the air. "Roger honey?" she asked, "What are you laughing about? Did your invisible friend Moe come back again?"

Roger blushed a deep shade of red and Mark stifled laughter, as did I.

"No Mom," he called back, "It's nothing. I was just laughing at a joke I heard yesterday."

I heard the door click shut and Mark started laughing hysterically.

"Moe?" he teased, "Moe? What kind of dumb-ass name is Moe? And who the fuck has imaginary friends? Oh, that's right, YOU DO!"

Roger smirked. "My Mom doesn't know that you're here," he said dangerously, "But she could _very_ soon."

Mark immediately shut up.

Roger grinned evilly. "That's what I thought."


	36. Chapter 36

**OMG I'M SO SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT! I was waiting for my friend to write the fight scene, but she didn't have the time. I kept waiting, but got annoyed and just wrote it instead. Oh, and on Friday June 16 I'll be updating ALL of my stories to celebrate the last day of school! I'm so sorry again! Enjoy!**

Mark silently walked down the hall, his eyes on the floor. Although he enjoyed learning, Mark hated school, probably because of all the hardships he'd experienced over the years. For the past three weeks he'd been hiding in Roger's basement after school (because he couldn't risk being caught by Roger's parents), and his usually pale skin was whiter than usual.

Right now it was lunch and Mark cautiously entered the cafeteria. Suddenly, Mark's body fell roughly to the floor.

"What's up loser?" Keith, the school bully, asked.

"Wel- ow!" Mark whined as Keith pushed his head deeper into the floor, all the while his groupies kicking Mark's small body around. I heard a crack and cringed as blood flowed every which way. They must have broken his nose.

"Hey, leave him alone!" a voice said.

I looked up. Thank goodness for Roger!

Keith sneered. "What do you want Davis?"

"I want you to leave my friend alone."

"And what if I don't want to?"

Roger smirked. "I'll have to kick your ass."

Keith chuckled. "You wouldn't have the guts to do that Davis."

"Wanna bet?" Roger asked before drawing back his arm and slugging Keith in the face.

And thus a fight broke out.

Keith, a bruise already flowering around his jaw, kicked Roger hard in the shin. As he doubled over to contain the pain, Keith shoved Roger roughly into a locker.

Roger recovered quickly and ran into Keith, smashing him against the brick wall. Roger brought his arms back and punched Keith one…two…three…four times in the stomach.

Keith's groupies then pulled Roger off of the 'leader' of the gang. While they held Roger back, Keith punched Roger in the face roughly. I grimaced as blood erupted from Roger's lip, flowing down his chin and forming a stain on his shirt.

Glaring at Keith through one eye (the other was swollen shut) Roger roughly pushed the groupies away and slammed their faces into the floor. He turned around to slug Keith, but was greeted by a sharp Swiss Army knife at his neck.

"What the fuck Phelps?" Roger asked, breathing heavily, trying desperately to keep the fear off of his face and out of his eyes.

Keith smirked. "Don't talk Davis, just listen. I should have done this a long time ago."

"Phe-" Roger shut up as the knife came dangerously close to his throat, threatening to cut open his Adam's apple.

I felt Mark slowly get off the ground, being careful not to be spotted by anyone. He carefully picked up his math book and tiptoed over to his best friend. He raised the book above his head and brought it hardly down on Keith's head. The book, probably weighing a good three or four pounds, caused Keith to stagger and then collapse on the ground.

Mark kicked each person once more just to be sure before giving his friend a hug, tears welling in his eyes.

"God Roger," he said, laughing lightly between sobs, "You're such an idiot. You could have died! What would I have done then?"

"Could've, would've, should've," Roger joked, "It's all over. Chill Mark, it's okay. I'm fine. Heck, you're the one with the broken nose. Let's get you down to the clinic and report Phelps here for threatening me with a knife!"

Mark nodded, sniffling and wiping his nose on me. "Sounds like a plan."


	37. Chapter 37

**This is a really long chapter! HOORAY FOR LONG CHAPTERS! I hope you like it!**

As the two boys entered the office, a little bell rang, signaling their arrival. The secretary, an elderly but kid-at-heart lady named Mrs. Kibs, looked up smiling.

"I knew it was you Roger," she said, "You haven't been in here all day. But I didn't expect you to be a zombie!"

Roger groaned and rolled his eyes while Mark giggled softly. "Kara, I'm not in trouble," Roger insisted, "I got in a fight and I have to report someone."

"Why?" Mrs. Kibs teased, "Did someone finally beat Roger Davis at his own game?"

"That isn't funny!" Roger said, "They held a fucking _knife_ to my throat!"

Mrs. Kibs' smile immediately disappeared. "That _is_ a serious matter," she mumbled, "Principal Watson should be able to see you soon. He's in a meeting with one of the parents right now. Take a seat, it shouldn't be much longer."

The two boys sat down in what looked to be very uncomfortable plastic chairs. Mrs. Kibs stared at Mark. "I've never seen you before," she said finally, "What's your name?"

"Mark Cohen," my Mark said meekly.

Mrs. Kibs nodded. "I see," she muttered, "Well, Mark, were you a part of the fight? Were you the little squirt with the knife?"

Mark paled and I couldn't help but laugh. Mark? With a knife? It seemed too unreal. Then I remembered the time Mark _almost_ cut himself that one day after school. The day before he met Roger. My laughter immediately subsided.

"Oh no Ma'am," Mark answered, "I helped Roger!"

Roger nodded. "That's right Kara," Roger said, staring at Mrs. Kibs, "Mark may have saved my life."

Before anything else could be said, two adults and a child walked out of Principal Watson's office, all looking grumpy.

"Principal Watson will see you know," Mrs. Kibs said automatically, leading the boys to the next room.

The boys shuffled in and Mrs. Kibs shut the door, leaving them alone with the balding, slightly over-weight, six foot six principal.

"Mr. Davis," Principal Watson said, folding his hands under his chin, "What brings you here? And Mr. Cohen, you of all people. I never expected you in my office on a negative note, especially covered in bruises and blood."

Mark blushed, looking at his feet and folding my corners over softly. I think he'd been thinking the same thing.

"Principal Watson it's not Mark's fault," Roger said, "He was getting beat up and I helped him out. Anyway, I'm here to report a knife in school."

Principal Watson's bushy eyebrows shot up. "Knives?" he questioned, "In school? Here?" -Roger nodded solemnly- "Who?"

"Keith Phelps," Roger answered, "He threatened me with a Swiss Army knife. He had it right up to my throat. If Mark hadn't done anything I'd probably be dead right now."

Principal Watson leaned back in his leather chair, deep in thought. Finally, he got up and made his way to the phone. He dialed a number and waited a while before saying, "Mrs. Kibs, get Keith Phelps down to my office _immediately_," -pause- "I don't care that he's in the middle of taking a three hundred point test. I WANT HIM HERE NOW!" -pause- "Thank you Mrs. Kibs."

Principal Watson hung up the phone and walked back to his seat. "Don't worry boys, this will all be taken care of."

Before too long Keith walked into the office, his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, his face lined with bruises and the last remnants of blood.

"Sit down Mr. Phelps," Principal Watson said calmly.

Keith took a seat next to Roger and slumped down, obviously not happy with what was going on.

"Okay boys, I want the whole story," Principal Watson said, "One at a time. No interrupting. Got it?" -the three boys nodded- "Good. Mr. Phelps, you start."

"Well," Keith began, "It was lunch and I was happily enjoying my home packed meal with my friends. Well, that's when I realized I didn't have any milk to go with my chocolate chip cookie. And you just can't have a chocolate chip cookie without milk! It's like, some kind of unspoken rule! So I got up and bought my milk in the lunch line and when I got back, you know what I saw? Cohen was eating my cookie! In fact, he'd already shoved half of it in his mouth! Well that just did it. I wanted my cookie back. So I punched Cohen. Not hard, but hard enough to tell him 'this is my cookie'. Cohen was shocked and Davis, seeing what I had done, told me to fuck off and get my own cookie because it was Mark's. I said 'no' and then Davis started beating me up. My knife simply fell out of my pocket by accident. I'm usually very careful with it. Davis was eyeing that thing pretty suspiciously, but then my friends came around and broke up the fight."

Mark, Roger and I gaped at Keith. That was the cheesiest, most awful lie I'd ever heard!

"That's not true!" Roger insisted, "He's lying! He's a filthy, rotten liar!"

"Then let's hear your side of the story," Principal Watson said simply.

"Fine," Roger began, "It was lunch and I was waiting for Mark because we always sit together. I kept searching the lunchroom and was about to give up when I heard some whining. I went to go check it out and found Mark on the floor being beat up by Phelps and his friends. I told them to leave Mark alone, but they wouldn't, so we started to fight. Well, they had more people, so Phelps's 'thugs' held me back and punched me. When I knocked them all out and turned to knock out Phelps's lights he had a fucking knife to my neck! That's when Mark got up and hit Phelps over the head with his math book so he wouldn't fucking kill me!"

"No need for profanity Mr. Davis," Principal Watson said, rubbing his temples, "Mark, your turn."

"It was lunch, and I was going to go sit with Roger like always," Mark began, "Suddenly I fell to floor because Keith had tripped me. He asked how I was and I tried to answer, but they started kicking me and pushed my head into the ground. I think they broke my nose! Anyway, then Roger came and told them to stop. But Keith wouldn't, so they got into a fight. Keith had a lot of friends, and he used that to his advantage. As soon as Roger fended off Keith's friends, Keith held his Swiss Army knife up to Roger's neck, threatening to kill him. That's when I hit him over the head with my math book."

Principal Watson nodded. "Well, seeing as their two stories are the most alike, "I'm going to have to believe Mr. Davis and Mr. Cohen. Mr. Phelps, I'm going to have to expel you for having a knife in school and threatening someone with it. Mr. Davis will have a week of detention for engaging in a fight and Mr. Cohen will have a two-days detention for being a third-party in a fight. Of course, I'm going to have to call each of your parents."

Roger and Mark gasped and paled.

"No!" Mark pleaded, "You can't call our parents! You just…can't! I can't tell you why, but you can't! I promise I'll be good! I'll clean the blackboards every day after school! I'll mop the floors! I'll take over for the janitor without pay! Please!"

Principal Watson looked at Mark funnily. "Sorry Mr. Cohen, but I have to call your parents."

Mark fainted, but Principal Watson didn't notice.

"Hello, Mrs. Davis, it's Eugene Watson, the principal at Scarsdale High School," Principal Watson started, "It appears that Roger and his friend, Mark, got into a fight with one of the other boys at school," -pause- "No, Mark's not at Military school. He's sitting right in front of me." -pause- "Yes, he's been in school for the past three weeks. Where did you get the idea he was at Military school?" –Principal Watson glanced at Roger- "I see. Well, I'll call up the Cohen's and we'll settle this out. Thank you Mrs. Davis."

Mark revived from his faint, Roger rushing to his side to help him up. I heard him whisper in Mark's ear, "We're screwed,"


	38. Chapter 38

**Hooray for another long-ish chapter! I hope you like it!**

About half an hour later Principal Watson's office was in complete chaos. Mrs. Davis was yelling at Mrs. Cohen. Mr. Davis was yelling at Mr. Phelps. Mrs. Phelps was yelling at the Principal Watson. The Phelps', Davis' and Cohen's were yelling at each other. Principal Watson was yelling at the boys because they'd pulled out a deck of cards and started playing a game of strip poker.

"Calm down everyone!" Principal Watson begged, but no one listened.

Mark climbed onto Principal Watson's desk and shouted, "HOLY SHIT! PRINCIPAL WATSON IS PLAYING STRIP POKER WITH KEITH!"

The room grew dead silent. And then Mrs. Phelps shrieked, "CHILD MOLESTER! CHILD MOLESTER! YOU ARE A BAD, BAD MAN!" -she then hit Principal Watson over the head with her purse- "YOU SHOULD BE FIRED! I'LL CALL CHILD SERVICES! I'LL CALL THE POLICE!"

"No, no, no! I'm not playing strip poker with anybody!" Principal Watson insisted, rubbing the sore spot on his head where Mrs. Phelps had hit him, "The boys were playing strip poker and I was telling them to stop."

"You allow strip poker in school?" Mr. Davis asked curiously, "Man, high school sure has changed since my day."

"No!" Principal Watson said, "We don't allow strip poker! That's why I was yelling at them."

"Then why'd he say it?" Mr. Phelps asked, pointing at Mark.

"Because you guys wouldn't shut the fuck up," Mark said defiantly.

"Mark!" Mrs. Cohen gasped.

"Go Mark!" Roger cheered.

"Well," Principal Watson interrupted, "Now that we're all settled down, let's get down to business. Keith, I'm sorry to say, _was_ caught with a knife and _did_ threaten the life of someone with it. We're going to have to expel him."

The Phelps' gasped and Keith looked sheepishly at his feet. "Keith how could you?" Mrs. Phelps asked, "I thought I taught you better than that. I'm very disappointed in you."

"As much as I don't like this," Mr. Phelps said sensibly, "There's nothing I can do now. I'm just glad no one was seriously hurt. Keith, we'll discuss this at home. Thank you Principal Watson."

"Maybe now we can send Keithy to that Catholic school across town," Mrs. Phelps mumbled to her husband and Keith shuddered.

"Roger, Mark," Principal Watson said, "Take a seat next to your parents."

The boys did what they were told and I heard Mark whisper to his mom, "Thanks for not bringing dad."

"No problem sweetie," she whispered back.

"Before we begin should we wait for Mr. Cohen?" Principal Watson asked.

"No," Mrs. Cohen said quickly, "He's not coming. He has…a meeting across town."

Principal Watson looked at her suspiciously before continuing, "Very well then, let's get down to business. From what I've been told the Davis' didn't know that Mark was still attending this school. They thought he was at Military school. Is that correct?"

"Yes," Mrs. Davis answered, "Roger came home one day very upset. He said that Mark was going to Military school, so they wouldn't be able to play anymore."

"Military school?" Mrs. Cohen asked, "I thought Mark said he was staying at Roger's house."

"Why would he stay at our house?" Mr. Davis asked.

"I don't know, ask them." Mrs. Cohen answered.

All eyes flew to Roger and Mark. "Well…" Roger said, "Uh…Mark, why don't you tell them?"

"I can't." Mark answered simply, looking at him mom with pleading eyes.

"Why not?" Roger asked, then a look of realization came over him, "Oh, I know why."

Principal Watson and the Davis' looked completely confused. "Would you care to explain Mark?" Principal Watson asked.

I felt Mark tense up and he began folding my ends. "No." he said stiffly.

"The most I can say is that Mark's been living in our basement for the past three weeks." Roger said suddenly.

"But why?" Mrs. Davis asked.

"I can't say," Roger answered, "That's up to Mark."

"Mark, we'd at least like to know why you've been living in our basement for the past three weeks." Mr. Davis said kindly.

Mark hesitated for a minute, thinking about what to say most likely. "I can't say," he finally said, "It'll lead to other things."

An awkward silence followed. It was so quiet you could hear Mrs. Kibs typing furiously on the typewriter. You could hear the clock's second-hand go 'tick, tick, tick'. You could hear birds chirping from outside.

"Can I talk to Mark privately for a second?" Roger asked finally.

"Of course," Principal Watson said immediately, getting up and walking into the main part of the office, the other parents following him.

"What do you want Roger?" Mark asked.

"Why won't you tell them?"

"Tell them what?"

Roger gave his friend a 'I-wasn't-born-yesterday' look. "Why won't you tell them about your dad?"

Mark looked at the floor. "As much as I hate him I just couldn't do it," he answered, "It would destroy the family. Dad would be fired from his job, and since Mom doesn't work they'd probably go bankrupt and have to move in with Cindy and Bryan. Or he'd go to jail and scar the Cohen name. Just, everything would be screwed up Roger. I can't do that!"

"Mark, listen to yourself," Roger said, "You didn't mention your name _once_. I know you like most of your family and all, but you need to think about what's best for _you_. What about all those years of torture? All those years of dangerously low self-esteem? You deserve revenge Mark!"

"I may deserve it," Mark whispered, "But I don't want it. Roger, I have to get out of here. I have to leave Scarsdale."

"What!" Roger nearly yelled.

"I can't live here anymore," Mark said calmly, "It's too painful. I'm going to go back to your house, pack all my stuff, and leave. Cover me, will you?"

Roger hesitated before saying, "How long do you need?"

A huge grin split Mark's face and he gave his friend a hug, tears lining his eyes. "While I climb out the window, go out there and say I said 'I need time to think'. Half an hour later knock on the door and open it. By then I should be long gone."

"You got it buddy," Roger said, "But where are you going?"

"You'll know," Mark answered, "You're the best Roger."

"I know. Now get outta here squirt!"

They both laughed pitifully and Mark wiped his eyes on me before climbing out the window. "Bye Roger."


	39. Chapter 39

**I'm so sorry I didn't get this out on Friday like I promised! I left home on Friday at eight in the morning and didn't get back until eleven thirty in the evening. I already had a few chapters for my other stories written, so I could post those. And I didn't have time to write this yesterday. But it's posted now, so I guess all's well that ends well. Enjoy!**

"Do you know where you're going Mark?" I questioned, looking around at the shabby buildings, people selling drugs, and big, tough men in leather jackets.

"Of course I know- no, you don't exist. I need to stop with this." He mumbled, pulling his jacket closer around his body despite the April heat.

I rolled my eyes. "You're not crazy Mark," I reassured, "Anyway, I like talking to you."

This time, he chose to ignore me.

"Hey, you, punk," someone said, approaching Mark, "Whatcha got there?"

"Oh, nothing," Mark said quickly.

"Sure doesn't look that way," another man said.

Three other men (five in all) began to close in Mark. I watched with wide eyes as a nervous sweat broke out and his breathing became shallow.

"Hey," another man said, approaching the scene, "Leave him alone."

I watched as Mark closed his eyes tight and, his hands clenched, punched the nearest thing- the man who'd told the other guys to leave Mark alone.

As I heard a large crack and blood erupted from the man's nose, all I could think was _This cannot be good._

The man fell to the ground, and the group of men, seeing the damage Mark had done left.

Mark immediately rushed to the other man's side. "I'm so sorry!" he said, "Here, let me help you with that."

"No!" the man said, "Don't touch it. I'll get it myself."

With a look of hurt on his face, Mark slunk back. "I-I'm sorry." Mark said again.

I heard a chuckle emerge from the man. "I didn't mean to scare you boy," the man said, "But I've got AIDS and I wouldn't want you to get it."

A look of relief washed over Mark's face. "Oh, thanks then," he mumbled, "For saving my life twice. Anyway, I'm Mark Cohen."

"Tom Collins," the man said, "But everyone just calls me Collins. What are you doing in Alphabet City Mark? You don't look any older than fifteen."

"I'm sixteen," Mark corrected, "And I'm lost. I ran away. I wanted to come to New York City because my friend Roger…oh Roger. I miss him already. He's been my friend for only a few years, but we're inseparable."

Collins nodded. "Yeah," he said, "It's the same with Lou and me. Of course, we've been best friends since birth. Our mom's were neighbors and we share the same birthday."

Mark laughed slightly. "That's really cool!" he said.

"Hey Mark," Collins said, "Why don't you come back to my loft with me? It's not safe for a _sixteen_-year-old to be traveling around Alphabet City like you are. Hey, Lou and I have been looking for a new roommate. Maybe you'll be the one."

Mark smiled. "Yeah, that'd be great!" he said truthfully.

Collins picked up his bag and lead Mark down the street.

"Another friend for my Mark," I mused, only too happy for my little guy.


	40. Chapter 40

**Uh, short, but it's my second posting today. I might get another one in. Enjoy!**

"Lou!" Collins yelled, "I'm home!"

Mark half-hid behind Collins and I hid behind Mark as Lou walked into the room. I had to say, this guy was intimidating. He had to stoop to get through the door, that's how tall he was. And he was, in a good way, very wide. He looked like a cross between a football and basketball player. His piercing green eyes were set back in his chocolate colored skin. His lips formed a straight, small line.

But as soon as he saw Collins, his lips transformed into a childish grin, making him seem less like a monstrous-sized killer and more like some regular guy who'd spend his Saturday in the park with a group of kids.

"Hey Collins," Lou said, "Nice to see you. And who's your friend?"

"I…I…I," Mark stuttered, his eyes wide, "I'm Mark Cohen."

Lou laughed. "I'm not going to eat you Mark," he said, "Here, to get the facts straight, I'm six foot seven, okay? I don't believe in violence, so I'm not going to kill you. I promise. There's really nothing you need to fear about me."

"It's true," Collins added, "Lou wouldn't harm a fly. He started crying when he accidentally stepped on an ant. You'll never meet a kinder person."

I felt Mark loosen up beneath me. I must say, that little speech was very calming. "Well, nice to meet you Lou," Mark said.

"Louis Berkins at your service," Lou said with a smile, "So what brings you here Mark?"

"Well," Mark said, looking to Collins, "Um, Collins brought me here."

"Mark needs a place to stay," Collins said, "Should we interview him?"

Lou nodded. "Sit down Mark," he said, gesturing to a broken-down couch.

Mark timidly took a seat. I stole a glance out the large window behind the couch. It was quite a view- a fire escape, a mugging going on four stories down and police sirens in the distance. Beautiful if I do say so myself.

"So Mark," Lou asked, "How old are you?"

"Sixteen," he answered.

Lou gave him a weird look. "Shouldn't you be in school?"

"Well, yes," Mark answered sheepishly, "But I just can't! Believe me, education is very important to me, but I couldn't stay where I was. I just couldn't."

"So you ran away?" Lou asked.

"Yes."

"If you don't mind me asking, why?" Lou said.

"I…not now," Mark answered, "I'm not ready to think about that yet."

Lou nodded. "Well Mark," he said, "You seem like a good kid. Welcome to bohemia!"


	41. Chapter 41

**It's short, but it's also the third post today. I think I'll have another one out today. Oh, and Lou is a tribute to my good friend, Louis. I love ya buddy! And to my school friends- you know who I'm talking about with Louis. Hehe. Anyway, enjoy!**

Mark was having a nightmare again. I could just tell by the way he was tossing and turning in bed. The way he was whimpering and muttering. Camera was fast asleep beside me, but I couldn't rest knowing that my poor Mark was suffering.

And that's when Mark let out a blood-curdling scream.

Camera grunted but continued to sleep. The screaming continued. He wasn't saying anything; it was just an agonizing, terror-filled, piercing yell.

Lou came dashing in (Collins could sleep through anything), running to Mark's side and shaking him awake.

"Mark!" he nearly yelled, "Wake up! Mark!"

Mark's eyes shot open and Lou gave him a hug. "God Mark," he said, "When are these nightmares going to stop? It's the third one this week."

Mark didn't return the hug; he just sat in Lou's grasp, trembling. "I don't know," he mumbled, rocking back and forth, his knees up to his chin, "I don't know Roger."

"Roger?" Lou questioned.

"Lou," Mark corrected, "I meant Lou. Roger, Lou, they're kinda the same."

Lou gave the younger boy a quizzical look. "If you say so," he muttered, "Mark, do you want to talk?"

Mark shrugged. "I dunno."

"I think we should," Lou said, "Well, let's start with this- who's Roger?"

Mark looked at the floor. "He's no one,"

"I'm he's more than no one," Lou said playfully, "He must mean something to you, for better or worse."

"He's no one," Mark snapped, "I don't want to talk about it. That's why I left."

Lou was taken aback. "All I want to do is help you Mark," he said calmly, "These nightmares aren't normal."

I watched as a single tear fell down Mark's cheek and he furiously wiped it away. "No one can help," he stated harshly, "No one. Not you or Collins or Roger or anyone, so just leave me alone!"


	42. Chapter 42

**It's short, but I don't really care right now. Enjoy!**

The three men were just sitting around the loft doing nothing. It was pouring outside and no one wanted to go out.

"Why don't we play a game?" Lou suggested.

"What kind of game?" Mark asked cautiously, picking up Camera hopefully.

"Truths."

Collins chuckled. "God Lou," he said, "You sly bastard."

Lou smiled. "What can I say?" he playfully asked, "I'm gifted."

"What's Truths?" Mark asked.

"Well," Lou said carefully, "We sit in a circle and tell true statements about ourselves. It starts off easy, like favorite color and age and junk like that, but then it gets harder and harder. It's really fun. Who wants to play?"

"I'm in!" Collins said quickly, "Mark here should get to know about his roommates."

"Mark?" Lou questioned.

"Come on Mark," I encouraged, "It'll be fun. You can always stop playing."

Mark took a deep breath. "Fine. I'll play."

Lou and Collins smiled. "I'll start," Lou said, "Okay, um, I was offered both basketball and football scholarships, but refused them because I didn't want to go to college. I wanted to fight the good fight without a diploma. Anyway, life is short."

Collins and Mark nodded and Collins went next. "I'm gay, but I'm not in love with Lou. He's straight. Anyway, even if he _was_ gay, I couldn't date him. It'd be like dating my brother."

Everyone laughed. Mark shyly told his truth. "I like photographing things, especially making movies and whatnot. I got my camera from my kindergarten, and favorite, teacher for my Bar Mitzvah. She died of cancer."

The room grew silent. "I'm sorry little man," Collins said.

"For what?" Mark asked bitterly, "There was nothing anyone could do about it. I mean, she was only the closest thing I ever had to a good mom ever. Nothing to be sorry about."

An awkward silence followed.

"I think we should stop playing Truths for today," Lou suggested.

No one protested.


	43. Chapter 43

**I don't know how this chapter happened. It started off 'normal', but got all weird. I hope you guys like it despite its 'differentness'.**

Mark went to bed early, but, for once, he didn't put me on the end table. Same with Camera, though he _was_ placed on Mark's dresser. However, I was carelessly thrown on the metal table in the middle of the loft. I felt quite rejected, but I _did_ get to hear Collins and Lou talk.

"What do you think of Mark?" Collins asked suddenly, stirring his tea around.

"He seems like a nice kid," Lou answered, "He really does. But I think something's bugging him and he won't open up and tell us. That's where the nightmares are probably coming from."

"Nightmares?" Collins questioned.

Lou rolled his eyes. "You really _can_ sleep through anything, can't you?" he muttered, "Anyway, Mark's been having these nightmares. But I think it may be more than that."

"Like what?"

"Childhood memories maybe," Lou said, "Bad childhood memories. Something he hasn't really told anyone, or least talked about in depth. It could be really serious junk."

Collins nodded. "Yeah," he mumbled, "Poor kid."

As if on cue, Mark let out a spine-shivering scream.

"What the fuck was that?" Collins asked, sitting straight up, his eyes wide.

"That would be Mark having a nightmare," Lou answered, "He's been yelling like that every night since he moved here. Sometimes more than once."

And with that he disappeared into Mark's room.

Suddenly, I heard things crash and shatter. "Where's my scarf?" Mark yelled, causing me to flinch slightly and Collins to cover his ears.

There was a pause and Lou must have whispered something to him. I could somewhat hear him say, "I'm sure it's around here somewhere."

"WHERE THE FUCK IS MY SCARF?" Mark screaming, bursting out of his room, his hair a mess and his eyes wide with fright.

"Here it is," Collins said calmly, picking me up off the table and holding me out to Mark, "Here you go. Here's your scarf."

I watched, bewildered, as Mark's right eye began to twitch. "DON'T TOUCH MY SCARF!" he shouted suddenly, "AH, YOU'RE TOUCHING THE SCARF! PUT IT DOWN PUT IT DOWN PUT IT DOWN!"

Collins instantly let go of me and fell to the floor. Mark dove and caught me and held me close to his heart, which I felt racing.

"Scarfy," he whispered, "Scarfy. You're still here. Roger. Bethany. Mrs. Pratt. Camera. Scarfy. Scarfy."

"It's okay Mark," I cooed, "It's okay. I'm here."

Tears streamed down his face and Mark curled up into a little ball on the floor. That's how he fell asleep and that's where Collins and Lou left him for the night.

"I'm here," I whispered into his ear periodically, "I'm always going to be here."


	44. Chapter 44

**Sorry about the weirdness of the last chapter. I had other stuff on my mind. Anyway, because it's FINALLY summer vacation I can update a lot. This is a relatively long chapter and I think a lot of you will be pleased with the ending. Enjoy!**

It had been a week since Mark's…_episode_ and everything was going well. Or at least that's what everyone thought.

"You haven't had a nightmare in days Mark," Lou said, "I'm glad that's over."

Mark nodded and I rolled my eyes. "It's somewhat hard to have a nightmare when you stay awake all night," I mused.

As if on cue, Mark yawned loudly and rubbed his eyes. Yes, after not sleeping for a few days I imagine one would be tired.

"Mark, you have to get some sleep," I said, "You can't keep living like this. Maybe you should go back to Scarsdale and talk to Roger. Or talk to Lou or Collins. If you don't you'll never sleep again. And can't people die from that?"

"I don't care," Mark mumbled.

"What was that?" Collins asked.

"Nothing," Mark answered quickly.

"Oh it's more than nothing," I said, "It's very much something. You need to talk to someone about this Mark. Roger, Lou, Collins- it doesn't matter who. Or, even better, you could talk to your dad. Work things out with him."

Mark shuttered.

"Or not," I muttered, "But still. Talk to someone. Please? For me?"

"No." Mark said sternly.

"Remember what happened the last time you listened to me?" I asked, "You met Roger."

There was a pause. "Fine," Mark said finally, "Hey guys, wanna play Truths?"

Both Lou and Collins looked surprised. "Um, sure!" Collins said, always ready for a game of Truths.

"I guess I'll play," Lou said, "If I can go first."

"When do you not?" Collins asked, chucking to himself.

Lou gave Collins the finger. "Shut the fuck up Thomas," he said playfully, "Anyway, I'll take that as a yes. Um, I don't have AIDS. Nor am I HIV+."

Collins went next. "I _do_ have AIDS, but it's not because I did drugs or anything. It was my parents. They had AIDS and I got it."

Mark and Lou nodded. 'Um," Mark said, "My birthday is on March second and I'm turning seventeen."

"My turn again!" Lou said, obviously happy they'd gotten through one round without any major drama, "I met a new girl."

"Who?" Mark asked.

"Hey," Lou said, "Only one truth per turn." -pause- "Her name is April Ericsson."

"You mean that waitress at the Life Café?" Collins asked.

"Only one tru- yup, that's her," Lou answered.

Collins chuckled. "You've always been a sucker for redheads," he mumbled, "Anyway, it's my turn bitches. Uh, I got a new teaching job at MIT."

"That's great Col!" Lou said, smiling widely.

"Yeah, that's really good," Mark said weakly, smiling slightly, "Now it's my turn. Um, Roger is my best friend. I miss him a lot."

Lou and Collins nodded. "So _that's_ who Roger is," Lou mused, "But why would you leave if your best friend was still at home?"

"Only one truth per turn," Mark mocked before saying, "Because of my dad."

"I think I'm gonna go for a walk," Collins said suddenly, walking out of the loft. I think he sensed that Lou and Mark needed to talk alone.

Mark and Lou ignored him. "What about your dad?" Lou asked.

"Well," Mark said, "He…he…I don't think I can say. I've never really told anyone. Except Roger."

"What did you tell Roger?"

"I told him about what my dad did to me," Mark answered.

"What did he do?" Lou asked softly.

Mark tensed up. "No," he said quietly to himself, "I can't say. I can't. He'll get in trouble. The family will be broken up."

"Mark," Lou said, reaching out.

"No," Mark said roughly, "Leave me alone. I…I'll be back later."

He quickly grabbed me and ran out the loft door.

"Oh Mark," I said, "You have to tell someone."

"I am," Mark said, "I'm going to tell someone. I'm going to tell Roger."


	45. Chapter 45

**It's short, but too bad! I've been posting a lot over the past few days, so it's allowed to be short. A nice happy chapter to make up for the sad ones. Enjoy!**

It was dark by the time we reached Scarsdale. Mark slowly walked up the path to the Davis' house and knocked. He then ran into the bushes and waited. After a few moments, the door slowly opened. An-all-too-familiar-figure stood in the doorway.

"Hello?" Roger asked, stepping out onto the front porch in bare feet and boxers.

"Roger," Mark whispered, emerging from the bushes, "It's me, Mark."

"Mark?" Roger said slowly, as if the word was foreign to his lips, "Mark. Oh god Mark, is it really you?"

Mark gave his friend a hug. "Yeah, it's me."

"Where did you go?" Roger asked, "Are you alright? Why'd you come back?"

Mark laughed slightly. "I'll answer your questions if you help me."

"With what?"

Mark took a deep breath. "I need to talk to my dad."

"Of course I'll help you," Roger answered, "Now will you answer my questions? Where were you and are you okay?"

Mark smiled. "I'm fine Roger, really. I'm a roommate with these two really nice men in Alphabet City. It's part of New York City. It's not as nice as what we saw when we went there, but it's the best I can do. Collins and Lou are really nice."

"That's good," Roger said, "So, let's get down to business, why are you here?"

"I have to talk to my dad Roger," Mark answered, "I've been having nightmares about what he's done to me. I haven't slept in days. If I don't talk to him I'll never be able to sleep. I need you to be there Roger. You're my best friend."

"Of course I'll help you," Roger said, "But come on inside. We'll talk to your dad tomorrow. And you should go to bed. I'll be here and wake you up if anything happens."

"Thanks Roger,"

"What are friends for?"

Roger ushered his friend into his house and escorted him into the basement.

"The basement?" Mark questioned playfully, "Interesting."

"Home sweet home, hm?" Roger teased.

"Oh yes, very."

"Good night Mark."

"Night Roger."

Within minutes Mark's soft snoring sounded through the quiet basement. Who knew as simple a sound as snoring could be missed so much?


	46. Chapter 46

**I didn't want to include Mark's talk with his dad in this chapter, so it's kinda short. I hope you like it, it's kinda funny if I do say so myself.**

"Roger, I don't think I can do this," Mark said.

"C'mon Mark," Roger encouraged, "This is your chance. You didn't want to tell anyone because of the trouble your dad would get it, but this is your chance at revenge without that!"

"But what if I don't want revenge?" Mark asked, "What if I just want to forget about the whole thing."

"You already tried that," Roger pointed out, "You ran away and had nightmares. Speaking of which, you didn't have any last night. I stayed up to make sure. You weren't whimpering or yelling or anything. Maybe you should stay in Scarsdale."

"I can't believe those words just came out of your mouth."

Roger shrugged. "Okay, I'm a selfish bastard that just wants to keep on eye on his best friend that seems like a younger brother. What do you want from me?"

"Was that a rhetorical question?" Mark asked, "Because I think I have an answer for it."

"Tell me later," Roger said, "Right now we're going to see your dad."

"But what if I don't want to go?" Mark asked, "I'm not moving a muscle towards that man."

Roger looked stumped, but a maniacal gleam flashed in his eyes. "Fine," Roger said simply, "Just wait here for a second."

With that, Roger ran upstairs and returned soon after with some rope and masking tape.

"Roger?" Mark questioned.

"Stay still," Roger instructed, putting some tape over Mark's mouth and binding his arms and legs with the rope.

After Mark was all tied up, Roger picked up his best friend bridal-style and, making sure the scene was safe of his parents, carried him through the house and into the front yard. Still holding Mark, Roger walked over to his neighbor's house, where a little girl was playing.

"Hey Bessie," Roger said, "Can I borrow your red wagon?"

"What do I get from it?" the girl asked seriously.

"How about I buy you a chocolate bar?"

"Make it a two chocolate bars and a new bucket of chalk and you've got a deal!" the girl said triumphantly.

Roger rolled his eyes. "Fine, two chocolate bars and a new bucket of chalk. Now where's the red wagon Bessie?"

The girl disappeared into the garage and came back pulling the desired item. "Here you go Roger."

"Finally," Roger muttered, harshly dumping Mark into the wagon.

"You better not break it," Bessie said.

"Don't worry," Roger reassured, "Mark probably weighs no more than you do. It'll be fine. Thanks again Bes. Now off to meet your dad!"

Mark grumbled something, but I couldn't understand it because of the tape. However it sounded something like, "Screw you Roger."


	47. Chapter 47

**This is a pretty long chapter and Mark finally talks to his Dad! I hope you like it (I have a feeling you will).**

Seeing how light Mark weighed Roger was able to walk down the street with the wagon and its contents at an incredibly fast pace. Soon enough, Mark's 'ex'-house was in sight.

Seeing this, Mark's eyes widened. Before I knew it, Mark had somehow rolled out of the wagon and was now hopping in the opposite direction as fast as he could. I laughed and watched as Roger stopped suddenly, turning around with a confused look on his face. He scanned the area for the runaway and spied him.

"Mark!" Roger shouted, running after him, "Get back over here!"

"Nehvah!" Mark yelled through the tape.

"Don't make me hurt you," Roger warned, stopping as his friend continued to hop forward.

"Oo wooden ave th uts!" Mark said playfully, continuing on with his escape.

Roger's eyes widened and then turned into angry slits. "I wouldn't have the guts?" he questioned, "WOULDN'T HAVE THE GUTS? Oh, you just made a BIG mistake Mark!"

With that, Roger took off in a sprint towards Mark. Seeing this, Mark's eyes widened and he tried to hop away faster, but Roger caught up to him and tackled him to the ground. A small groan escaped Mark's lips and Roger smirked.

"See, I did have the guts,"

"wa eher." Mark mumbled.

Roger carried him back to the wagon and they continued on with their 'journey' to Mark's house.

As soon as they reached their destination, Roger stuffed the wagon in the bushes and untied Mark. "You better not run away," he warned, stuffing the rope in the wagon.

"And what will you do if I do?"

Roger had to think a moment. "If you do," he said finally, "I'll put out missing people reports so the police will find you. And then when they _do_ find you, I'll smash your camera and put your scarf in the shredder."

That last part caused me to tingle. "Just go along with him, please!" I whispered to Mark. I didn't want to end up in a million little pieces.

Mark rolled his eyes and wrapped me a little tighter around his neck. "Okay, you win this round Roger," he muttered.

Roger smiled. "Good, now come on,"

Roger led Mark up the path to the front door and rang the bell. Mrs. Cohen answered it. Her eyes grew wide when she saw who was on her front porch.

"Marky!" she shrieked, giving her son a hug, "Oh Mark, I thought I'd never see you again!"

"It's good to see you too Mom," Mark said, returning the hug, "I missed you. Hey, um, do you know where Dad is?"

"He's out golfing Marky," Mrs. Cohen answered, "Why?"

"I need to set things straight with him," Mark said, "Roger dragged me here. All the way from him house. In a little red wagon while I was gagged and bound."

"You've been at Roger's this entire time?" Mrs. Cohen questioned.

Mark hesitated. "No," he said finally, "I haven't been at Roger's."

"Then where were you?"

"Um, New York City,"

"New York City," Mrs. Cohen stated, "Aren't apartments there expensive?"

"Some can be," Mark said unsurely, "But I'm living in an apartment. I'm sharing a loft with two other guys a little older than me. And, um, it's in a less expensive part of the city. Like, um, Alphabet City."

"Alphabet City!" Mrs. Cohen shrieked, "Oh Mark, you can't live there anymore! It's so dangerous! You'll get mugged."

"I almost did," Mark mumbled to himself, but I don't think Mrs. Cohen heard him.

"And what about your roommates?" Mrs. Cohen asked, "Tell me about them. And for goodness sakes, come inside! How rude of me to not invite you two in. Go on Mark dear, I'll make you boys some cookies while you're waiting."

"Thanks Mom," Mark said, "Anyway, I have two roommates- Lou and Collins. They're like Roger and me- best friends since they were young. Um, Collins is gay and has AIDS. He's a professor at MIT on actual reality. And Lou isn't gay or HIV+ or anything. He met a new girl the other day, but I haven't met her yet. Lou is really intimidating; he must be six foot seven or something. And he's really big. But not fat big, muscular big. But Lou wouldn't hurt a fly. They're really nice guys Mom."

"Mmm," Mrs. Cohen said, her lips pressed together so they formed a thin line of worry.

"They really are Mom," Mark said.

"I'm sure."

Mark looked disappointed and Roger gave him a sympathetic look.

"The cookies are done," Mrs. Cohen said, placing a plate of the steaming cookies on the table along with two glasses of milk, "Be careful, they're hot."

"Okay Mom," Mark said, taking a big bite out of a cookie.

"Yee-ow that's hot!" Roger exclaimed, taking another bite out of his cookie.

Mrs. Cohen rolled her eyes, "Boys will be boys," she said to herself, "Oh, I think Rob is home."

Mark cringed slightly at the mention of his father. "Good," he said, "Now I can talk to him."

"Debby," they heard Mr. Cohen say, "Cookies? What a nice trea- oh, _you're_ here."

Mr. Cohen glared at his son and Mark glared right back. "Haven't seen me in a while, have you?" Mark questioned.

"Didn't I tell you to leave and not come back?" Mr. Cohen asked.

"Yes," Mark said, "And I left. I ran. But I couldn't escape. I can only do that one way, and that's by straightening things out with you."

Mr. Cohen chuckled. "What do you think you're going to say?" he quizzed, "What words could possibly make everything better?"

"A few actually," Mark answered, "Like, 'I'm sorry' and 'why'. So, I'm sorry for whatever I did to you. I'm sorry that you felt you had to do what you did to me. But, why did you do it anyway?"

Mr. Cohen looked stunned. "W-what?"

"Why did you hurt me like you did? Why did you hurt Cindy? Why did you hurt your own kids?"

Mr. Cohen's eyes glazed over a bit. "My father," he said, "Your grandfather. He did the same thing. I didn't know any better. I really didn't. Child services came. They took my sisters and I away, but Mom divorced him and got us back. And then, and then you and Cindy came along. And you were both so full of life. So happy and carefree. It was a feeling I'd never gotten to experience and I was jealous, so I took it away from you. I'm sorry Mark."

Mark looked stunned. I guess he hadn't expected such stuff from his father without a lot of prying. He got up and made his way to his dad. "It's okay Dad," Mark said soothingly, "As long as you understand your mistakes I guess it'll be alright. And look Dad, Cindy and I got over it…kinda. Roger and Lou and Collins are helping me, and Bryan and Cindy's friends are helping her. It'll be okay Dad, all hope isn't lost for us. And hope isn't lost for you either Dad. Maybe we can be closer?"

Mr. Cohen nodded. "That'd be nice. That'd be very nice indeed."


	48. Chapter 48

**It's short, but the last chapter was long. I'm sorry for the long wait! I tried to post this on Tuesday, but it wouldn't work and I was gone on Wednesday and now it finally worked. Enjoy!**

"Oh Mark, do you have to leave so soon?" Mrs. Cohen asked.

"Yeah, I'm sorry Mom," Mark answered, "But I ran out on Lou and Collins the other day and they're probably really worried. They've probably been looking for me over the past two days. I should get to Alphabet City before sunset if I go now and I don't want to wait another night."

Mrs. Cohen smiled. "I can tell these boys mean a lot to you sweetie," she said, "Stay safe and please call."

"I'm not making any promises," Mark said, giving his mom a hug, "Alphabet City is kinda dangerous and we don't have a phone."

"Bye Mark," Mr. Cohen said, "I'm glad we were able to fix things up between us."

Mark smiled. "Me too Dad," he said, "Me too. I have to go catch the bus into the city. Bye."

Mark waved and walked off, leaving his house behind him, but not for good, Roger by his side.

"Hey Roger,"

"Yeah?"

"Remember when I told you I had an answer for your rhetorical question?" Mark asked, "When you asked what I wanted from you? Remember that?"

Roger gave his friend a weird look. "Yes," he answered unsurely, "Why?"

"I want you to come to New York City with me."

Roger stopped walking abruptly, the red wagon plowing into the back of his legs. "What!"

"You heard me," Mark said, "I want you to come to New York City with me. You were always the one reassuring me how we'd run away to New York. Now's our chance. You're my best friend Roger, I want you to be with me."

Roger seemed to battling with his thoughts. "Mark I…" he started, looking into his friend's glossy, blue eyes, "I can't."

"But…why?" Mark asked.

"I promised you we'd go," Roger said, putting his hands on Mark's shoulders, "And I never break promises to my best friend. But not now. I can't go now Mark. I can visit you during vacation, but I can't go. I don't know why, but something's telling me to stay in Scarsdale for a while. Sorry Mark."

Mark stared at the ground and I could see the tears in his eyes. "Alright," he whispered, "I guess I'll see you later then. Come and visit whenever you want."

They shared an awkward hug and Mark walked down to the bus stop.

"It'll be okay Mark," I reassured, "Roger promised. He'd never break a promise to you."


	49. Chapter 49

**It's not terribly short, but it's not too long either. Enjoy!**

After a seemingly long bus ride (I can't say how long, I fell asleep), we reached New York City. And after a few subway rides, we reached Alphabet City just as the sun was setting. Mark quickly hurried to the loft and bolted up the stairs before anyone could…take advantage of him per say.

"Hello?" Mark called when he entered the loft, "Lou? Collins? It's Mark. I'm home!"

There was no answer.

"Mark?" someone said suddenly, probably female, "Mark?"

Mark turned around and I saw a small girl with fiery red hair and deep-set blue eyes heavily outlined with black eyeliner.

"Are you…April?" Mark guessed, "Lou's new girlfriend?"

The girl smiled. "So he _has_ mentioned me," she said, "Yeah, I'm April. And seeing as you didn't protest it, you must be the Mark fellow Lou and Collins are so worried about."

"That would be me," Mark said, grinning, "Where is everyone anyway?"

"Out looking for you," she answered, "They came home once over the past few days, and that was at two in the morning. They slept until four and then went back out. They're really worried about you."

Mark blushed. "Oh, there's no need for that, I'm okay," he mumbled, "So, um, what are you doing here?"

"Well, I was out helping them look," April answered, "But I brought back every strawberry blonde, scrawny, sixteen-year-old looking boy with black-rimmed glasses I could find. Collins and Lou just decided it would be better if I stayed here incase you came back instead of dragging random strangers everywhere. I guess it was a good thing though."

"Yeah," Mark said, sitting down on the broken couch, "Hey, wanna play a game of Truths?"

April smirked. "Lou and his games," she muttered, "Sure. Why don't you go first?"

"Okay, um, my best friend is going to come live here in New York City one day."

"And how do you know that?" April asked teasingly.

"Well, he promised," Mark answered, "And Roger never breaks his promises to me. We've been best friends for years."

"That's cool," April answered, "My turn. Uh, as much as I love Lou, my favorite kind of guys are rockers. Guys who write their own music and play the guitar."

Mark laughed. "April, I think you'll like my friend Roger,"

"Why?"

"His dream is to become a Rocker Sex God. He plays the guitar, quite well I may add, and he writes his own music." Mark said.

April's eyes lit up. "Tell me about Roger!" she demanded, "What's he look like? What about his personality?"

Mark laughed. "Well," he started, "Roger has somewhat long hair. It's like…I dunno, it's my length I guess. He spikes it up almost all the time. He just got it cut a few years ago. He used to wear it long. And he has these bright green eyes."

April shivered. "He sounds really handsome,"

Mark grinned. "I guess, but I find it weird calling my best friend handsome," he said, "Anyway, Roger's really rebellious. I'm really surprised I was the first one to leave Scarsdale actually. He was always the one talking about running away to New York City. He's a really good dancer. He helped me learn to tango. Well, he at least let me practice with him. Reminds me of the time we crashed a party in our honor. I'm always having fun when I'm with Roger."

April rested her head on her hands as she sat at the metal table. "He really must be a great guy."

"Roger? Yeah, I don't know how I'd live without him."


	50. Chapter 50

**Hooray for a relatively long chapter! My Mark, on my Word Document, is officially 80 and a half pages, which is the longest any of my stories has been ever, so I'm happy. And I'm well aware this is my third update in about fifteen minutes. I'm just that good. No, not really. I wrote three chapters over the past few days, but fanfic was being evil and I couldn't post anything. It made me sad cause I'm happy when my readers are happy. Seriously, I update a lot because well, I like to write and I love making my readers happy with more story to read! In fact, you guys are so special that I'm getting my friend to update this while I'm gone at camp. So, feel special cause you guys are the best! Enjoy!**

I cuddled closer into Mark's chest. After a long day of bus riding and answering April's never-ending questions about Roger, he'd fallen asleep on the couch. They'd decided it was for the better; than Collins and Lou would know right when they walked in that Mark was safe. Mark had fallen asleep almost immediately, but I was having a difficult time.

Just as I was drifting away, the door banged open, pulling me awake.

"Thanks a ton," I grumbled sarcastically, but no one heard me.

"Another day and no Mark," Lou said sadly.

"Don't worry man, we'll fin- whoa, what the hell is on the couch?" Collins said.

"I don't think it's April," Lou mused, approaching the sleeping figure, "Hey, it's Mark!"

"Hey you're right," Collins said, "And he looks unharmed. Let's get him into his bed, I'm sure it'll be more comfortable than this lumpy couch."

Lou gently scooped Mark up and gave him a small hug. "Yeah," he responded, "And let's take off his scarf and glasses and shoes and jacket. That should help too."

The men carefully took Mark into his room and set him down on his bed. And, true to their word, removed his jacket, shoes, glasses, and, of course, me.

"G'night Mark," Lou said softly, "It's good to have ya back."

**Break Here**

Mark groggily rubbed his eyes and put on his glasses. "Whoa," he mumbled sleepily, "How did I get here?"

"Lou and Collins brought you in here," I answered, "They thought you'd be more comfortable in your bed than on the couch."

Mark shrugged half-heartedly. "That makes sense," -he shook his head- "Get out of my head!"

"I'm not in your head," I stated, somehow knowing he was talking to me.

"Whatever," he grumbled, rolling out of bed and tiredly entering the main part of the loft.

"And he lives!" April said playfully, getting up from her seat on the couch giving Mark a friendly hug, "We thought you'd _died_ or something."

"Yeah man," Collins added, "There wasn't any snoring or anything. And you didn't even _move_. It didn't look like you were breathing either."

"And it's already nine in the morning." Lou continued.

"Nine in the morning?" Mark questioned, "That's not too bad."

"Nine in the morning two days later," April said, "You slept all of yesterday."

Mark blushed and I laughed. "Oops," he mumbled.

"How about we play a game of Truths?" Lou questioned suddenly and everyone groaned.

"What is up with you and that game?" April asked teasingly, "You're _obsessed_."

"Well I'm playing," Collins said, "And yes Lou, you can go first."

Lou beamed. "Mark? April?"

"Sure, I'll play," Mark said.

April sighed. "I guess I'm in."

Lou grinned. "Alright," he said, "I have a mortal fear of penguins. I don't know why, I just do. I always have this dream where they attack me. It's really weird."

Everyone laughed. "Only you, Lou. Only you," April teased, "My turn now I guess. Uh, when I was little I wanted to become an astronaut. I still kinda do, but I'd rather be something else."

Collins went next. "When I was in second grade, my mom made me take dance lessons. The thing was, it was ballet. And amazingly enough, I liked it. I stopped in seventh grade when I doubled up in math and science."

Lou laughed. "I remember that! You ditched me _every day_ at six o' clock so you could go to your precious ballet lessons."

"It was fun!" Collins protested.

"My turn!" Mark said quickly before Lou could make anymore smart-ass remarks, "While I was 'missing', I went to Scarsdale, where I grew up, and visited my best friend Roger and talked to my dad. We made up and I don't think I'll be having nightmares anymore. Those memories are at rest."

Lou's face lit up. "That's great Mark!"

Mark beamed. "I know," he whispered.


	51. Chapter 51

**Well, not much to say other than 'enjoy'! I really think you guys will.**

Mark paced the loft, nervously twisting my ends. His face was bright red from the heat- it was the first day of summer and there wasn't any air-conditioning. To make things worse, no one could convince Mark to take me off, so he was most likely really overheated.

"Chill out Mark," April teased, "It's just your parents."

Mark gave her a crazed look. "Just my parents?" he questioned, "JUST MY PARENTS? April, they're going to hate it here. They're going to send me home in a second. What was I thinking inviting them here? I'm doomed!"

"Mark, everything is going to be just fine," Lou reassured, "Remember, your parents can't force you to do anything you don't want to do. Anyway, if they do hate Alphabet City, it's going to be because you're here and they want you to be safe. It's all parental love Mark."

"But they're still going to hate it!" Mark whined, "And it isn't going to be just the place, it'll be the people. I don't think they'll like you. Lou, you're going to be too big or something. April, they'll think you're too crazy and Goth and weird. And Collins is going to be, well, too much like Collins!"

Lou and April looked hurt. I'm sure Collins would've looked the same way, but he was shopping for the Cohen's arrival.

"If you don't want us here we'll leave," Lou said sadly.

Regret filled Mark's eyes. "Oh no no no," Mark said, a small smile forming on his face, "I didn't mean it like that. I love living here with you guys! Honestly. I wouldn't trade this for anything. I just have a feeling my parents won't…get to know you the same way I've gotten to know you. It'll be harder for them to like you."

April smirked. "Well then we'll get them to like us. Don't worry Mark, I've got everything under control."

"Thanks April," Mark said, "That means a lot. But they might bring my best friend, Roger. If that's the case I really want you guys to be yourselves. Maybe it'll make him want to live here."

Lou laughed. "Sure thing Mark."

The door suddenly flew open and Collins walked in, carrying bags filled to the top with groceries.

"I'm home bitches." He stated with a grin, setting the bags down on the metal table.

"So it would appear," Lou said, unpacking things.

"Meatless balls?" April questioned, pulling out a package of the item from the bag.

Collins smacked his forehead. "Damn!" he said, "I meant to get meatballs for Mark's parents so I could make spaghetti and meatballs. I must have grabbed the wrong thing!"

"Well," Lou said, "There's no use in letting this go to waste. We can eat them."

"Uh you can," April said, taking a step back from the package of meatless balls she'd placed on the metal table, "But I'm not taking one bite out of those."

"Me either," Mark added, "And you better not serve those to my parents. Just, use something else! We can eat those…things if we get desperate later, which we probably will."

Lou nodded and stuffed the meatless balls in the back of the freezer. "Then what are we going to make them?" Lou questioned, "I mean, that's Collins' specialty and there really isn't much more."

Everyone looked at each other wearily. "I…I guess it would be okay if we made the meatless balls," Mark said finally, "I can only hope they don't taste too bad."


	52. Chapter 52

**I was going to write more, but I figured I'd stop here. Enjoy! And for the first time in forever, I'm going to put a disclaimer: I don't own RENT. Only Lou is my own creation. Well, him, Bethany and the Pratt's.**

"Hey Mark, what do your parents look like anyway?" April asked suddenly.

Everyone stopped what they were doing. Collins stopped stirring the spaghetti sauce he was making. Lou stopped setting the table and Mark stopped pacing.

"What?" Mark questioned, confusion written all over his face, "Why?"

"Oh no reason," April answered slyly.

Lou laughed. "Of course," he said, rolling his eyes, "I heard that tone in your voice April."

April stuck out her tongue. "Yes mother," she said sarcastically, "Anyway, I was just trying to do something nice for Mark. But if you don't want my help…"

"I want your help!" Mark blurted quickly, "So, you just need to know what my parents look like?"

April nodded. "Yup."

Mark dashed into his room.

"Whatcha doing Mark?" I asked curiously.

"I'm ignoring you," Mark said stoutly, "Hm, I know it's around here somewhere. Ah, here it is!"

I watched as Mark pulled out his wallet and took out a little picture, though I didn't get a chance to see what it was a picture of before he turned it over and returned into the main room.

"Here April," he said, "Those are my parents, my older sister Cindy and me. Cindy isn't coming though."

April grinned. "Thanks, this is perfect!"

And with that, April dashed out of the loft, leaving the men very confused.

"What the hell was that all about?" Collins asked.

"I have no clue," Mark answered, "But I sure hope she doesn't do anything stupid."

"Well, we don't have time to find out," Lou said as-a-matter-of-factly.

"The spaghetti is done," Collins said, putting a lid over the pot so the food would stay warm.

"Good," Mark said, glancing at the clock, "Because they should be here any moment now."

As if on cue, the door slid open suddenly.

"Mr. and Mrs. Cohen," April said politely, "Welcome to our home."


	53. Chapter 53

**Haha, cliffhanger! -cackles- Enjoy……**

April ushered the Cohen's into the loft and Mrs. Cohen rushed over to Mark and gave him a hug.

"Hi sweetie," she said, "How are you? You feel thin. Are you getting enough to eat?"

Mark laughed nervously. "Mom, I'm fine, really. We're all just a little short on cash, that's all. It's nothing to worry about, really."

"If you say so," she muttered, stepping aside so her husband could give Mark a hug.

"How's it going son?" he asked.

"Good Dad," he answered.

"Oh that reminds me," Mr. Cohen said, "We got you guys a gift."

Everyone's eyes lit up as they saw Mark's dad hand him something wrapped in bright paper. Mark eagerly opened it and smiled weakly.

"A phone and answering machine," he said.

April walked up to the Cohen's and gave them each a big hug. "You guys are officially my new heroes. Thank you _so_ much!"

Mrs. Cohen smiled. "No problem," she said.

"Oh Mom, Dad, let me introduce you to everyone," Mark said quickly, "This is April. The one tall one is Lou. And the other one is Tom, but we call him Collins."

"Nice to meet you Ma'am," Lou said, shaking Mrs. Cohen's hand, "Mr. Cohen, nice to meet you too."

"A nice firm handshake," Mr. Cohen mused, "A good trait in a man."

Lou blushed. "Thank you sir,"

"Mm," Mrs. Cohen said, "What is that _delicious_ smell?"

"Collins made spaghetti and meatle---meatballs." April said, catching herself at the last moment.

"Why, I haven't had spaghetti and meatballs since Mark was little," Mrs. Cohen mused, "It used to be Mark's favorite food as a toddler."

April pinched Mark's blushing cheek. "Did little Marky-Warky like sketti?" she asked teasingly.

Lou gave her a weary look. "April," he said sternly.

April blushed. "Sorry Lou," she whispered, planting a kiss on his cheek (he had to lean down and she had to stand on her tip-toes, but she gave him a kiss).

"Dinner's served," Collins said suddenly, pulling out a seat for Mrs. Cohen.

"Thank you…Collins was it?"

Collins nodded.

"Well thank you."

Everyone sat down at the metal table and began to eat.

"This garlic bread is delicious!" Mr. Cohen said, taking another piece.

Garlic bread? Where did that come from?

Everyone looked at Lou, who was blushing. "Thank you Mr. Cohen," he said and April punched his arm playfully.

"Collins, these meatballs are delicious!" Mrs. Cohen said, "I've never tasted anything like it! But they look a little green. But they taste delicious if you close your eyes! Nothing against it of course."

The bohemian's side glanced at each other and laughed quietly. So the meatless balls weren't that bad (they hadn't had the guts to try them yet).

"Thank you Mrs. Cohen," Collins said, trying not to burst out laughing.

"Hey Mom," Mark said, "Where's Roger? Wasn't he going to come?"

The Cohen's looked at each other nervously. "He…couldn't make it," Mrs. Cohen said cautiously.

"Really? Why?" Mark asked, "You said he really wanted to come."

"And he does…did…" Mr. Cohen said.

"Where is Roger then?" Mark asked. I could tell he was getting more and more nervous.

"Um…um…" Mrs. Cohen sputtered, trying to buy time, "Where's the bathroom?"

"Over there," April said, pointing towards the closed door.

Mrs. Cohen got up and rushed into the bathroom, leaving her husband to fend for himself.

"Dad, where is Roger?" Mark asked demandingly.

"I wouldn't want to ruin dinner with bad news…"

"Bad news?" Mark nearly shouted, "Did something bad happen to Roger? Is he okay? Dad, what's going on?"

"I'll tell you after dinner," Mr. Cohen said.

"Dad,"

"I said I'll tell you after dinner," Mr. Cohen said forcefully, picking up his fork and winding spaghetti around it.

Everyone followed his fashion and the loft was dead silence.


	54. Chapter 54

**Well, it's a miracle I got this out so soon. I actually had no idea what had happened to Roger, but I thought of this and I figured it would work. Oh, and I'm not really sure if Scarsdale is really in New Jersey, so I'm sorry if it isn't. Enjoy!**

Dinner ended soon after and everyone sat in silence.

"So," Mark said, "Dinner's over. Can I…" -his dad gave him a glare- "Clear your plates for you?"

Mr. Cohen smiled. "Yes, that would be very nice of you Mark."

Mark smiled weakly and picked up plates and started cleaning them in the sink while his mom engaged in conversation with his roommates.

"So how did you all meet?" Mrs. Cohen asked kindly.

"Well, Collins and I knew each other since birth," Lou said, "And I met April at the Life Café."

"And we've been dating ever since," April added with a smile, giving her boyfriend a little kiss.

Mrs. Cohen smiled. "That's so sweet," she said.

"How many of you have jobs?" Mr. Cohen asked suddenly.

"Two of us," Collins said, "April's still a waitress at the Life and I got a teaching gig at MIT. But Lou's looking for a job."

"So I see Mark's the only one not contributing," Mr. Cohen said.

"Not many people will hire sixteen-year-olds," Mark said from his post at the kitchen sink.

"I'm sure you could run errands for people,"

"I'll look into it,"

Mrs. Cohen, probably sensing the tension building up, changed the subject. "So Collins, you said you were a professor at MIT. How old are you?"

"I'm twenty-two," Collins said.

"Wow, you're the same age as some of the students," Mrs. Cohen mused and Collins nodded.

"I'm done with the dishes," Mark said, putting the last plate back into the cupboard.

Mr. Cohen sighed. "I guess we can't put it off anymore," he mumbled, rubbing his temples, "Come here and I'll tell you what happened to Roger."

Mark tentatively sat down next to his dad. "What happened?"

"The other day," Mr. Cohen began, "Roger was in the park, playing his guitar. Some boys walked up, some were from your school. And they were being led by some kid- Keith somethingoranother."

"Keith Phelps?" Mark questioned, his eyes wide.

"Yeah, that's it," Mr. Cohen answered, "Keith Phelps. Anyway, they beat Roger up and he got scratched up pretty bad."

"Rob, you're forgetting something," Mrs. Cohen said sadly.

"What?"

"You forgot about the knife,"

"Oh yeah," Mr. Cohen said, "They slashed him with a knife. Luckily, someone saw it all and called 911. The boys are in jail and will be for a good, long time."

Mark smiled half-heartedly. "That's good," he mumbled, "But is Roger okay?"

"Well, it depends on what you consider to be 'okay'," Mrs. Cohen said slowly.

"He's dead isn't he," Mark said, tears forming in his eyes, "Roger's dead. Please, just tell me."

"They hit him over the head Mark," Mr. Cohen said, "He's in a coma."

"So I was right," Mark said bitterly, "He's basically dead."

"You've gotta look on the bright side Mark," April said, "If you think of Roger as dead he minus well be. You've gotta remember all the good times."

Mark nodded thoughtfully. "Mom, can I borrow twenty bucks?"

"Okay," she said, pulling the bill out of her purse.

With that, Mark ran out the door and hailed a taxi.

"Where to son?" the driver asked.

"St. John's Hospital in Scarsdale, New Jersey," Mark said, "And step on it."


	55. Chapter 55

**Sorry for the long wait! Okay, this is going to be my last update before camp (which starts on the fifth). I'll be gone for 3+ weeks. I'll continue to write more of My Mark until I leave. I'll try to get three or more chapters and get my good friend DrkHrtWritr27 to post them while I'm gone. If I don't get the chance to write anymore than, well, you'll have to wait three or more weeks for another update! Sorry about that. Anyway, enjoy!**

We all sat in silence for a while before I said, "Hm, he looks familiar."

"You're right," Mark whispered back, "Wait, no, I'm ignoring you."

"What was that?" the driver asked.

"Nothing," Mark said quickly.

"Hey, did you say Scarsdale?" the man asked.

Mark gave him a skeptical look. "Not to sound rude or anything," Mark began, "But you're a _taxi driver_. You should remember where I asked you to go!"

The driver smiled. "You're right," he said, "And I do remember where you said to go- St. John's Hospital in Scarsdale. But, you know, I'm from Scarsdale myself."

"Really?" Mark questioned.

The driver nodded. "That's right," he said, "My wife and I used to live there. I was a photographer. I moved west though a couple years ago. I had a steady job, but I retired and came back here. I couldn't bear to go back to Scarsdale though and I needed money, so I got a job as a taxi driver."

"Why'd you leave?" Mark asked.

The driver sighed. "My wife died. It hurt me too much to stay in Scarsdale. Actually, part of the reason I came back was because of a twelve-year-old boy. I was his friend- at least I think I was- and I hurt him so badly by moving. That kid pulled my at my guilt strings for the past few years. Actually, he must be about your age by now."

I gasped. "No," I mused, "It _can't_ be him."

"Um, what's your name?" Mark asked slowly.

"Pratt. Earl Pratt," the driver answered, "Why?"

Mark's eyes widened. "You're right," he said slyly, "That boy _is _around my age."

"How do you know?"

Mark smirked. "Because that boy is me."

Mr. Pratt paled. "W-what?" he stuttered, "Mark?"

Mark grinned. "I _knew_ you looked familiar," he said, "I can't believe it's you though. I thought I'd never see you again!"

"Same here Mark-o," Earl said, quickly picking back up on Mark's old nickname, "So how've you been? What did I miss after all these years?"

"Well," Mark began, "Bethany moved to Boston and turned against me, so we're not friends anymore."

"So sad, you guys were so cute together."

Mark blushed and continued, "My sister Cindy got married. I think my mom said she was expecting."

"I never heard that!" I said. It must have been when I was in another room or something.

"Yeah, she's already a few months along," Mark said, "And, um, then I met my friend Roger. He's my best friend. Then I ran away to New York City where I met Collins, Lou and April. I patched things up with my dad, so that's good. Oh, and Roger's in the hospital."

Earl frowned. "I'm sorry to hear about your friend Mark-o," he said, "But I'm glad everything is working out for you."

"Yeah," Mark muttered, "So how've you been?"

"Oh, feeling guilty," Earl said with a slight smile, "That conversation we had in the graveyard stuck with me. It's why I came back. Other than that, there really wasn't anything exciting that happened."

"Mm," Mark mumbled.

"So that's it?" I asked, "Four or so years and that's all you're going to talk about? Find out where he lives. An address, a phone number, anything!"

"No," Mark whispered, almost silently, "Mr. Pratt- Earl- did a lot of things for me when I was younger. He helped me. But that was then. That was back in Scarsdale. I'm closing that book in my life. I don't want to remember it. Anyway, why am I telling you this? I'm ignoring you."

"What about Roger?" I questioned, "He was part of your Scarsdale life."

Mark's lips formed a thin line and he continued to stare out the window, not answering my question. "I'm ignoring you," he mumbled.


	56. Chapter 56

**Well, hopefully I'm having fun at camp. I actually wrote this chapter on the twenty-ninth (six days before I actually went to camp). Um, any chapters between now and the end of July will most likely have been prewritten because I'm such a good little author and didn't want my faithful readers to go three whole weeks without an update. Enjoy! **

**Oh, and my good friend DrkHrtWritr27 posted this for me, so thanks to her. And anything written after this (other than the story) will be her doing.**

Hi, everybody! This is DHW27, as said above. In case you didn't read what Peanuts already wrote, Peanuts is at camp. She pre-wrote seven chapters before she left, and I'm going to post them for you on 3-day intervals. Hope you enjoy this chapter! Ttfn :D

"Here we are," Mr. Pratt finally said, "St. John's Hospital in Scarsdale."

"Thanks," Mark muttered, "How much?"

Mr. Pratt smiled and shook his head. "Nothing Mark-o, it's on me. Maybe we can talk to each other later. Anyway, go help Roger."

Mark grinned widely. "Thanks. Yeah, maybe I'll see you around. That was the building I live in by the way, so you can stop by anytime."

And with that, Mark ran up the stairs into the hospital and went straight to the main desk where an elderly lady was sitting.

"Excuse me," Mark said, "But do you know what room Roger Davis is in?"

"Yes, room 514."

"Thanks," Mark said hurriedly and began to run off.

"Wait!" the woman said, "Visiting hours aren't for another fifteen minutes."

"Please!" Mark begged, "Roger is my best friend! Can't you let me go see him fifteen minutes early?"

The woman smiled slightly. "I'm sorry," she said, "But the earliest I can let you go is five minutes without getting in trouble. Why don't you just take a seat over there and wait the fifteen…er, ten…minutes until visiting hours? That, or you can visit the gift shop over there."

She pointed to a small store on the other side of the waiting room.

"You _do_ have that twenty bucks you didn't have to use for the cab ride," I said.

"I guess I'll go to the gift shop," Mark said and the woman smiled and nodded.

"Ha, you're listening to me!" I said triumphantly as Mark browsed through bright balloons and t-shirts with cheesy sayings on them, "First with meeting up with Mr. Pratt again and now with the gift shop."

"I'm not listening to you!" Mark hissed, "I'm ignoring you! We just seem to…think the same way."

I rolled my eyes. "Of course," I said sarcastically.

"Hey, how about this?" Mark asked, though I wasn't sure if the question was directed towards himself or me.

I looked at the shirt Mark was holding and laughed. "P-p-_pink_ for Roger? With a _teddy bear_ on it? Mark, this is _your_ friend we're talking about. _You're_ the one who knows him the best. But even _I_ know Roger would hate that. Find something else."

"If it was from me I'm sure Roger would like it," Mark grumbled, but he still put the shirt back on the rack.

"There you go again, saying you're ignoring me but still taking my advice," I said.

"I'm not taking your advice!" Mark hissed, "I'm not even listening to you! I'm ignoring you."

"That whole 'I'm ignoring you' act is getting old."

"Shut up."

"Make me!"

"I would if I fucking knew who the hell you were!"

The man at the cash register cleared his throat, signaling that Mark's language was not welcome in the hospital.

Mark glared at him and whispered, "This isn't over voice."

I smirked. "Well, I win this round, because I can still swear and you'll be the only one to hear it." -pause- "Fuck the whole damn world until the entire bitch of a thing goes to hell."

Mark rolled his eyes. "Hey look at that," he said, "Visiting hours are starting. I'm going to go visit Roger because he's cool, unlike you, whoever you are."


	57. Chapter 57

**And now, after I think three chapters, Mark finally gets to see Roger! -cheers- Anyway, still at camp and hopefully still having fun. Again, my friend DrkHrtWritr27 so kindly posted this for me. Enjoy!**

**And anything written between here and the story is from DrkHrtWritr27 herself!**

**Weeeeeee! It's me again! Yes, beware, I HAVE RETURNED! -lightning flashes- -maniacal laughter ensures- ...yes, I'm hyper, how could you tell -inserts invisible question mark- :D Anyway, elephantian will be back in four days! In the meantime, I have one more chapter of MyMark to post between now and then (not counting this chapter). -kinda almost assumes role of elephantian- I know that the ending of this chapter is a little "blah", but the next chapter should fill in the holes. Enjoy!**

Mark boldly walked to Roger's room and softly knocked.

"Come in," I heard Mrs. Davis say.

Mark tentatively entered the room and tears immediately filled his eyes. There was Roger, lying beneath blinding-white sheets in a blinding-white room. Mrs. Davis was sitting at her son's side, but seemed to be packing up.

She smiled slightly when she saw Mark. "Oh, hello Mark, I didn't know you'd come,"

"It's Roger Mrs. Davis," Mark said, "He's my best friend. Of course I'd come."

"That's sweet," Mrs. Davis said, "I have to go to work and Mr. Davis won't be here until much later, so I'm glad you showed up. Talk to him Mark, he may be able to hear us. And even if he can't, it's still nice."

Mark nodded. "I'll do that."

"Thank you Mark," Mrs. Davis said, "Thank you for being such a good friend to Roger. He really needs you."

"Oh no Mrs. Davis," Mark said, "I'm the one who needs Roger."

Mrs. Davis smiled widely. "Then you two are just perfect for each other, aren't you?" she rhetorically asked before exiting the room.

Mark slowly sat down next to Roger, the heart monitor beeping loudly and uncomfortably filling the silence.

"Say something," I urged, "This is Roger. This is your best friend. Just talk to him."

Mark nodded. "'Kay," he mumbled, "Um, hi Roger, it's Mark. I came all the way from Alphabet City to see you. No, that sounds stupid. It makes it seem like I'm gay or something. Let me start over. Hey Roger, Mark here. How's it going? Uh, bad, obviously. He's in a fucking _coma_! Hi there Roger. Guess who. It's Mark. When you get out of this coma I'm gonna beat the living daylights out of Keith. No, I couldn't even beat up a teddy bear. I'm such a weakling. Keith would probably kill me twice before I'd even create a bruise. Ah, this isn't working Roger! Why can't I just talk to you like I usually do?"

"You're trying too hard," I said as kindly as I could, "This isn't a stranger. This is _Roger_."

"Yeah, you're right," Mark said, "Roger, its Mark. It's really great to see you. It's been a while, hasn't it? I really wish you'd come to live with me in Alphabet City. You'd really like Lou and Collins and April. They're really nice. Collins is a professor at MIT and he's only twenty-two! He's really funny too. Lou is really tall- I think he's six foot seven or something like that. He looks scary and intimidating at first, but once you get to know him he's really nice. He's dating April. April is…April. She's so amazing. No, I'm not in love with April. She's kinda like my sister, only better. She's really fun to be around. And I'm using the word 'really' too much, aren't I?"

Mark laughed. "Roger, I miss you. You've been my friend since freshman year. Since I was fourteen! And now I'm sixteen. Wow, it's hard to believe we've only been friends for two years. It seems like so much more. Maybe it's because for most of those two years we've been inseparable. I really hope you wake up from this Roger. I really, really do. I…I'd die without you Roger. No, I'm not madly in love with you, or in love with you in any manner. You're my best friend. You saved me Roger. You're funny and nice and such a great guy. But I'm going to stop now, cause it sounds like I'm proclaiming my undying love for you, which isn't true. Sorry if that upsets you, Mr. Ladies Man."

-assuming role of elephantian again- TO BE CONTINUED IN THE NEXT CHAPTER WHICH WILL BE POSTED IN 3 OR SO DAYS...


	58. Chapter 58

**I should be coming back from camp tomorrow, but I don't know if I'll be able to post or not. Also, I MAY stay an extra week, cause I love camp so, so, SO much! Anyway, a big thanks to DrkHrtWritr27 who's been posting all of these chapters for me while I'm gone! Oh, and I made up the lyrics to the song Mark sings. They're not good, but I'm not a songwriter, I'm an author (or at least try to be). Enjoy!**

Hey, everybody! Yeah, as elephantian said, she's coming home tomorrow. So, yeah, enjoy this chapter! 

Visiting hours were almost up and Mark seemed to be well aware of this.

"Roger," he said, "In about five minutes, old, crinkly, crusty, mean hospital ladies are going to come in here and tell me to shoo and come back tomorrow because I'm not family. I'm not a demon-genius like you are Roger. If _I_ were in the coma and _you_ were the one visiting I know you'd tell those ladies off. And then they'd threaten to wash your mouth out with soap and give you a warning to never EVER do it again. But hey, you're Roger Davis. No one tells _you_ what to do! So you know what? You'd do it again, that's what. You'd tell off the nurses and the doctors and they'd throw you out of this stupid hospital and ban you from it. But hey, you're Roger Davis. No one tells you what to do! So you'd sneak back in, just to see me. Well, in just three minutes now those ladies are going to come in here and tell me to get out. But I couldn't do that. Roger, you're my best friend. So as visiting hours come to a close I beg of you to temporarily thrust that hard-ass-stubborn-I-don't-take-nothing-from-nobody attitude upon me so I'll have the nerve to tell the nurses off and sneak back in here tomorrow. And if you can't do that, well, help me think of a good lie. And if you do that I'll…I'll…I'll put down my camera and write a song and sing it to you. Yeah, if you can do that for me, I'll do that for you. Deal?"

Knowing that he wouldn't get an answer, Mark got up and picked up Roger's guitar, which was lying in the corner. Making sure the strap was securely around his neck and shoulders, Mark made his way back to the chair next to Roger's bed. He was just about to strum a few notes when a nurse walked in.

"Excuse me sir," she said kindly, "But visiting hours are over."

"But…uh…but…um…uh…er," Mark stuttered, "Erm…uh…but…but I'm a volunteer!"

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I play my guitar for the guests to make them happy," Mark said, "I'm not very good, but it's so nice for those lonely patients."

The nurse smiled. "Can I hear you play a song?" she asked.

Mark's eyes grew wide and I snickered. "Didn't Roger teach you how to play 'Mary had a Little Lamb' a few years ago?" I offered.

"Y-yeah," Mark said, "I'll play 'Mary had a Little Lamb'."

"Surely such a distinguished guitarist can make up new lyrics for such an old tune," the nurse said, making it seem like she was trying to rat Mark out.

Mark paled. "O-of course," he said as cheerfully as he could, "No problem!

_Marky had a best friend_

_A best friend_

_A best friend_

_Marky had a best friend who saved him from himself_

_They were always pulling pranks_

_Pulling pranks_

_Pulling pranks_

_They were always pulling pranks, which made their parents mad_

_One day Marky left his friend_

_Left his friend_

_Left his friend_

_One day Marky left his friend to go into the city_

_Then Marky's friend got really sick_

_Really sick_

_Really sick_

_Then Marky's friend got really sick and Marky came to help_

_Marky frets for his friend's life_

_His friend's life_

_His friend's life_

_Marky frets for his friend's life 'cause he'd die without him_"

The nurse applauded. "That was…very nice," she said hesitantly, "Keep up the good work, but try to make it less…forlorn for our guests."

Mark smiled weakly. "No problem." He mumbled.

When the nurse exited the room, Mark turned to Roger and said, "Okay, I owe you one song. That was the deal."


	59. Chapter 59

**Well, I am, obviously, back from camp. And, truth be told, I had a blast! I'm actually homesick for camp. This isn't a terribly great chapter, but camp's kinda made my writing go down the toilet for a while. Hopefully it'll get better soon. Oh, this may start to sound slashy, but I can assure you it's not. Roger and Mark are just friends. Well, at least in this story they are! Enjoy!**

Mark cautiously entered Roger's hospital room, guitar in hand. He took a deep breath, his grip on the instrument tightening, causing his knuckles to turn white.

"I don't think I can do this," Mark mused.

"Of course you can!" I encouraged.

"How do you know?"

"Mark, this is Roger. Roger, your best friend in the entire world. I'm sure he'll like your song no matter what. That, and he may not even be able to hear you, so it wouldn't matter anyway."

Mark sighed. "I guess you're right. But still, I'm nervous."

I smiled. "Well, it's perfectly fine to be nervous."

With that, Mark approached Roger's bedside and took a seat. "Now I warn you," he said, "It isn't very good. I'm sure you could sing it more in tune and get the chords right, but I guess it's the thought that counts."

And then he began to sing.

_"Your Eyes_

_As We Said Our Goodbyes_

_Can't Get Them Out Of My Mind_

_And I Find I Can't Hide _

_From Your Eyes_

_The Ones That Took Me By Surprise_

_The Night You Came Into My Life_

_Where There's Moonlight_

_I See Your Eyes_

_How'd I Let You Slip Away_

_When I'm Longing So To Hold You_

_Now I'd Die For One More Day_

_'Cause There's Something I Should_

_Have Told You_

_Yes There's Something I Should Have_

_Told You_

_When I Looked Into Your Eyes_

_Why Does Distance Make Us Wise?_

_You Were The Song All Along_

_And Before The Song Dies_

_I Should Tell You I Should Tell You_

_I Have Always Loved You_

_You Can See It In My Eyes"_

The last note slowly died and Mark gently put down the guitar. "I hope you liked it," he whispered, "I don't know why half of they lyrics are what they are, but I kinda like it. I hope you did too."

"I'm sure he did," I offered.

Mark smiled. "Yeah," he said, "You know, if this was a movie, Roger would wake up right now. And he'd be perfectly fine. And…and…he'd move to the city with me and Lou and Collins and April. But most unfortunately this isn't a movie, this is real life. Damn, I hate real life."

I winced as the last sentence left Mark's lips. "Take it back," I demanded, "Take it back right now!"

A look of confusion crossed Mark's face. "What? Why?"

"Because I said so," I answered, "That, and I don't want another episode of Cindy's wedding weekend. Nor a replay of the day before you met Roger. No more of that. Mark, I thought you'd climbed out of the depression pit!"

Mark chuckled. "I didn't mean it that way!" he insisted, "I said I hated real life because Roger wasn't going to wake up. I really miss him. Oh, and by the way, I'm done ignoring you, whoever you are. You actually give some pretty good advice. That, and you're nice to talk to."

I beamed. "Nice to know." I mumbled.


	60. Chapter 60

**I'm so sorry this took so long! I got mega writer's block on this and then I got really wrapped up in Challenge Central. It took me a lot of willpower and frustration to get this out, so it's short and probably really bad, but I hope you guys like it anyway!**

"Promise you'll call when Roger wakes up?" Mark asked for the umpteenth time.

Mrs. Davis smiled. "Yes, I promise Mark. Now get going."

"Make sure you give us a call when you're back in town," Mrs. Cohen said, giving her son a hug, "I'm going to miss you, but I'm happy now that you're not running."

"Me too, Mom, me too."

"Hate to break this up, but we have to get going Mark-o," Earl said, continuously glancing back at his taxi nervously, "We have to get to the city before dark."

Mark gave everyone one last hug before climbing into the backseat of the taxi.

As soon as the parents were out of sight I said, "That trip did you a world of good."

"What do you mean?" Mark asked, making sure to keep his voice low so Earl wouldn't hear.

"Well, you saw Roger," I began, "And cleared a lot of the air between your parents and the Davis'. I'd say that's progress."

"I guess you're right," Mark said, "But I could've done without Roger being in such critical condition."

"I'd say 'a little real life trauma's good for you', but you live in New York City and we've already gone through Mrs. Pratt."

"Yeah…"

"So Mark-o," Earl said, interrupting our conversation, "Tell me about yourself."

"Could you be a little more specific?" Mark asked.

"Certainly," Earl answered, "Hm, how'd you wind up in the city?"

"Well, when Roger and I first met his parents took us there," Mark replied, "And we, well, at least I, fell in love. And then a few years later I got kicked out of the house and, after secretly living in Roger's basement, ran away to New York City."

"That's cool," Earl answered.

There was an awkward silence after that.

"What about you?" Mark finally asked, "How'd you end up New York City?"

"I still felt bad about leaving you alone in Scarsdale," Earl responded, "I was in Buffalo for a while. Then I went to the city. I'd never really been there before and I was immediately drawn to it as soon as I got there. I guess we have something in common then- our love of the city."

Mark grinned. "I guess."


	61. Chapter 61

**I know what I'm doing here, so don't doubt the brilliant mind of me and where this story is heading. Oh, and I'm sorry if you don't like this, because this chapter could probably be very unlikable. And good news- this chapter is significantly longer than the last one. It would've been longer, but this seemed like a nice place to stop. Enjoy!**

"Mark, my man, nice to have you back," Collins said, wrapping his arms around his friend.

"It's nice to be back," Mark said, "How'd you guys hold up without me?"

"She would tell him about the party we threw?" Lou teased.

"Nah, just leave it," April said.

"Very funny," Mark said sarcastically, "I'm beat. I think I'm just going to go to bed."

"Mark, it's three in the afternoon," April pointed out, "How can you possibly be tired?"

"I…uh…um…er…." Mark stuttered, "I…JUST AM!"

With that he sprinted up the stairs and bolted into his room. Breathing heavily he locked the door and collapsed on his bed.

"You're not really tired, are you?" I questioned.

"No, not really."

"Then why'd you run?"

"That's for me to know and you to never find out," Mark answered, kicking off his shoes.

Just when I thought Mark was making progress on talking to me, and just talking about his feelings he shuts down again. When will he learn?

Someone knocked on the door. "Mark," Collins said, "Can I come in?"

"No," he answered stoutly, "Fuck off and leave me alone."

I heard some giggling coming from the other side of the girl. It must have been April. April had the tendency to giggle whenever profanities were thrown about.

"Mark, something's wrong," Collins said, trying again, "Why don't we talk."

"Talk about what?" Mark said, an air of rebelliousness in his voice, "The last time I saw you with any kind of other human being in an intimate relationship? Or what about that splendid job at MIT that you _still_ haven't left for?"

I could tell that hit a nerve with Collins.

"Mark Cohen open up this damn door or I'll do it myself. I'm going to kill your scrawny ass when I get my hands on you!"

"Then why would I open the door?" Mark asked casually.

Suddenly the door started shaking violently and a look of fear rushed over Mark's face. Another tremor consumed the door and it almost sounded like Collins was kicking the door down.

"UNLOCK THE FUCKING DOOR COHEN!" Collins yelled menacingly.

Suddenly the door stopped trembling.

"Mark, it's Lou," the man said, "Please unlock this door. Something's wrong and we _will _find out."

"No you won't," Mark said, "Because I'm not telling anyone. I'm not unlocking the door and I'm certainly not going out."

"Fine," Collins said, returning into the dispute, "Then I will personally sit in front of your door until you come out. I'll give you five seconds to change your mind. One…"

Mark looked wearily at the door.

"Two…three…"

Mark got up to unlock the door.

"Four…"

"No," Mark whispered, returning to his bed.

"FIVE! Okay Mark, you give me no other choice. You're on house arrest Cohen, and you're not leaving your room until you talk."


	62. Chapter 62

**This chapter is relatively long to celebrate the fact that this story has reached 100 pages! -throws a little party- Anyway, I hope you guys like this! Oh, and a shout-out to my camp friend, Julie, because this chapter will sound familiar to her!**

"Are you ready to come out and talk Cohen?" Collins asked through the door.

"No," Mark said weakly, not even getting out of bed.

It had been three days since Mark had gotten back and he still hadn't left his room. Lou and April had tried to slip him things while Collins went to the bathroom, but were only successful in providing a bucket for when nature called.

Collins had changed a lot over these past three days and that made me nervous. He was no longer the cheerful anarchist who was always there with a bottle of Stoli and a buoyant laugh. Now he refused to address Mark by his first name and just called him Cohen. He even snapped at Lou and April.

What scared me more is that Mark hadn't eaten for the past three days.

"Mark," I said, "Just tell him what's wrong! This is really bad for your health and well-being. You haven't had anything to eat in three days! A person can't live like this."

"I am." He said simply, sighing and rolling over in bed.

"And I'm worried about you."

"I don't even know who you are," Mark said, "You're just some voice in my head that knows me too well and gives good advice."

"I'll tell you when the time is right," I reassured, "I promise."

"Whatever," Mark mumbled, closing his eyes.

What was up with Mark? He wasn't acting like his usual self and I couldn't figure it out. Why wouldn't he talk to Collins? Or Lou? Or April? Or just anybody? Something was wrong and talking is usually the way to go. And it's not like these people were strangers- they were some of his closest friends.

"Hey Mark," April said from the other side of the door, causing me to perk up, "A certain Roger Davis is on the phone. He wants to talk to you."

Mark shot up and wildly sprinted to the door and pulled it open. Before he could make a mad dash to the phone Collins wrapped his arms around the boy and sat him down in a chair.

"Lou, the rope!" he called.

Lou nodded and began to tie Mark to the chair while April stood in the corner, a guilty expression on her face.

"This…it was all a trick," Mark said sadly.

"Yeah, it was," Lou said, tying a tight knot in the rope, "But we knew you weren't going to break anytime soon. You're too stubborn and strong for your own good. Anyway, we were getting worried about your health. You haven't eaten in days!"

"I'm sorry Mark," April said, "It wasn't my idea!"

"It was mine," Collins said, "For all the reasons Lou mentioned. April only helped because she was worried; so don't get mad at her _or_ Lou. It was all my doing. Now talk Cohen."

Mark looked wearily around the room. "Can Lou and April leave?" he asked timidly.

Collins nodded and the two roommates made their way out of the loft.

"Now Mark," Collins said softly, "Can you tell me what's wrong?"

Mark hung his head. "I…I'm depressed."

"Why?"

"I'm not really sure."

"Bullshit," Collins said, "You know _exactly_ why."

Mark looked up and glared at Collins. "I don't know why I'm depressed!" he said defiantly, "I wouldn't lie to you."

"Well, why do you think you're depressed?"

"I don't know Collins," Mark said, his voice rising with frustration, "I just don't know."


	63. Chapter 63

**This is a pretty loose chapter compared to the last few. It's got its funny moments. So, enjoy!**

While Mark munched on a stale, peanut butter and some-sort-of-jelly-substance sandwich Collins had fixed together for him, the older man watched him eat, a strange look on his face. When he was finished, Collins took the plate and set it gently in the sink, never taking his eyes off of Mark.

"I've been thinking," Collins mumbled, and Mark looked at him with curious eyes, "I'm going to ask you a question and I want the truth."

"Alright,"

"Do you love Roger?" Collins asked seriously.

Shock quickly swept over Mark's face and even I was surprised into silence.

"W…w…what?" Mark asked, clearly not believing Collins' question.

"Do you love Roger?" Collins restated.

"N…n…no," Mark stuttered, "I…I love women! I love boobs and vaginas and-"

"Mark!" Collins interrupted before the boy could go any further, "A simple 'no' would've sufficed."

"Sorry," Mark mumbled sheepishly, "Why'd you ask?"

"I thought you might've been depressed from being Roger-deprived, but I guess I was wrong," Collins answered, hurt crossing his face for a brief moment.

"Oh dear," I said, "Mark, Collins is gay. You must've hurt his feelings! You should apologize."

"Oh," Mark said, his eyes widening a bit with realization, "Collins, I'm sorry. There's nothing _wrong_ with guys liking guys, it's just not for me."

Collins grinned slightly. "That's alright Mark," he said, "Now, let's get down to business. We really need to figure this out."

Mark nodded. "Actually, I feel better now."

"But we didn't figure out what was wrong!"

"I know, but just talking made it better," Mark said, "Knowing someone cares was good enough I guess."

Collins smiled. "Well, I don't think this is completely solved, but we'll deal with it when the time comes. C'mon, we should go find April and Lou."

"Hey Collins,"

"Yeah?"

"I saw this place coming back from Scarsdale," Mark said, "It's called the Life Café. Do you think we could try it out?"

"It's a good idea, but there's one problem," Collins replied, untying Mark from the chair.

"What's that?" Mark asked, stretching his sore limbs.

"We don't have any money,"

Mark grinned. "That's where you're wrong," he said, "My parents gave me money before I left."

Collins smiled widely. "Alright then," he said, "To the Life Café it is! Well, once we find April and Lou that is."

With that the man opened the loft door and two familiar figures fell into the room.

"Lou? April?" Mark asked rhetorically.

"Sorry," April mumbled, "It's my fault. I wanted to know what was wrong. I'm not a patient person! Now let's go to that Life Café Mark was talking about, I'm starving!"


	64. Chapter 64

**Sorry for the short length and the long wait, but I'm having trouble writing lately. I'll try and update soon! Enjoy!**

"How many?" a man at a podium asked as the four entered the café.

"Four," Collins answered and the man immediately led them to a booth pushed up against a window and handed them their menus.

"This seems nice," April said, opening her menu and scanning it quickly, "Ooh, miso soup! I _love_ miso soup!"

"And look, seaweed salad," Lou said, "I'm getting that. And a soy burger- I'm starving!"

"Our old friend the meatless ball," Collins muttered, making the others chuckle, "I think I'll have that."

"Hm, I think I'll try the tofu dog," Mark mused, adding his menu to the stack his friends had created moments before.

Soon they hailed down a waiter and he began to take their order, "So that's one miso soup, a seaweed salad, one soy burger dinner, a tofu dog platter and pasta with meatless balls?"

Everyone nodded.

"Don't forget a few orders of fries!" April said.

"And wine!" Lou piped up.

"And beer!" Collins added.

The waiter nodded and disappeared into the kitchen to place their orders.

"The service isn't too bad," Lou mused, ripping a napkin into tiny shreds to cure the boredom.

"How's Roger?" April asked.

I looked at April cautiously. That was a risky move.

"He's doing okay," Mark answered without any hesitation, "

"That's good," April mumbled.

"So Collins," Lou said suddenly, "How's MIT."

"Well, it's summer so I haven't been there yet," Collins answered, twirling a knife around.

"Cool," Lou muttered.

"Yeah," Collins whispered.

"Let's play a game of truths," Mark said and everyone perked up, "Lou, you can go first."

Lou's face lit up. "Um, I'm going to go visit my grandma next week. She lives in Michigan. It's her birthday, so I'll be gone for a few days."

"That's cool," April said.

"Wait, I'm not done," Lou interrupted, "You guys get to come, all expenses paid!"

"That's so cool!" April squealed, leaning over and giving her boyfriend a hug.

"And look, our food's here," Collins said, pointing the waiter as he weaved his way through the various tables with a tray of different plates.

"What great luck," April said, "First Mark comes out of 'hiding', Mark finds this great café, Lou's inviting us on a free trip to Michigan and now our food's here! Best day of my life if I do say so myself!"


	65. Chapter 65

**I think this may be my new favorite chapter. It's got humor and some drama. Plenty of each character (including scarf). _AND_ it's probably the longest chapter yet. So, I hope you like it!**

The week had passed by quickly and now the four bohemians were getting ready to board the plane to Detroit, Michigan, where Lou's aunt would pick them up and drive them to his grandma's house in West Bloomfield, which was only an hour or so away.

"This is so exciting!" April squealed, picking up her bag as it exited the baggage check, "I've never been on a plane! Or even to an airport!"

"Me neither," Mark mumbled, though he seemed more nervous than excited.

"It's really nothing special," Lou said, retrieving his bag and waiting with April for the other two bohemians, "Did anyone bring the gum?"

Mark and April gave him funny looks and Collins said, "Damn, I forgot. We'll have to buy some."

"Oh, I like bubble gum!" April said.

"Mint's fine with me," Mark mumbled, "But why do we need gum anyway?"

"So your ears pop, that's why," Collins said nonchalantly, grabbing his backpack and heading off to the nearest vendor.

"Ears pop?" Mark questioned, a worried look crossing his face, "Like explode?"

"No silly," April said, "Ears don't explode…do they?"

Lou laughed. "No, ears don't explode. As the plane gains altitude the air pressure makes your ears plug up. The gum helps unplug it, and it makes a little popping noise."

Relieved looks washed over Mark and April, causing Lou and I to laugh.

"Back!" Collins said, "Mint for me and Mark and bubble gum for Lou and April. Now c'mon, we don't want to miss our flight!"

Everyone nodded and silently followed Collins down the terminal to Gate 14.

"Stay here," Collins instructed, "I'll make sure everything is in order."

While he walked off, April, Lou, and Mark took a seat in the hard, black chairs, not saying a word.

After a moment or two, Mark whispered, "Lou, I've gotta go to the bathroom."

"Well then go," Lou replied, "You don't have to make a public announcement."

Mark blushed a deep red. "But Lou," he mumbled, "I don't know where it is. And I'm kinda scared to go by myself. This place is really big!"

"Alright," Lou said, groaning, "I'm coming."

"No!" April nearly shouted, "You can't leave me here all by myself! I'll get kidnapped and raped and you guys won't be able to pay the ransom so then I'll be killed!"

"April, this is an airport, not a dark alley," Lou reminded her, "You'll be just fine. Anyway, Collins will be back soon."

"Then why can't you just wait 'til he gets back?" April questioned.

"Because I have to go **_NOW_**." Mark answered sternly, hopping from foot to foot impatiently.

April sighed and rolled her eyes. "Fine, just take him."

Mark smiled thankfully and rushed after Lou towards the bathroom. "Thanks," he mumbled.

Lou smiled down at him. "No problem," he said, "Just make it quick, the plane's probably going to leave really soon. I'll wait right here." As he said that, the man stopped by a bench around the corner from the bathroom and took a seat.

"Alright," Mark said, heading towards the men's room, "Be right back."

"No," I said, "You won't be right back."

"Why?" Mark asked.

"Because there's a huge line."

True to my word, there was a long line of men trailing out of the bathroom. Mark groaned. "Well, I guess I better get in line."

After ten minutes of waiting, Mark had finally relieved himself and was just exiting the bathroom when a loudspeaker said, "Flight 393 from New York, New York to Detroit, Michigan is now boarding. That's flight 393 from New York to Detroit, Michigan."

Mark paled. "Shit, shit, shit!" he grumbled, "Where's Lou? Where's Gate 14? I think it was…that way!"

With that, Mark began frantically running down the terminal.

"Mark, this doesn't look right," I said, "I think Gate 14 was the other way."

"Shut up!" he nearly yelled, "I need to concentrate."

The loudspeaker came on again. "Last call for boarding flight 393- New York, New York to Detroit, Michigan."

"Damn it!" Mark cried, not only because we were going to miss our flight, but also because he'd tripped over his shoelace and was now sitting on the hard, marble floor, trying to nurse a bloody knee and a small cut on his face.

"Aw Mark, don't cry," I said, trying to sooth the boy, "Everything will be okay."

"No it won't," Mark sobbed, "I'm stuck in New York City while Lou and Collins and April go to Michigan for a week! I don't have any money and I'm stuck in a stupid airport! EVERYTHING ISN'T GOING TO BE OKAY!"

Suddenly, Mark was lifted off the ground by two, strong arms.

"AH!" Mark screamed, "I'M BEING KIDNAPPED! HELP! POLICE! HELP ME!"

"Chill out," the voice hissed, "It's only me. Lou. Your friend. God, what happened to you Mark?"

Mark and I looked up simultaneously and sure enough it was Lou. As soon as Mark was safely situated in his arms, Lou began sprinting furiously in the other direction.

"We better not miss our flight," he grumbled.

Soon enough Gate 14 came into view. Collins was standing there, holding three tickets in his hand. "Hurry up bitches!" he nearly yelled, "Or we'll miss the damn fight!"

"Where's April?" Lou asked, dumping Mark onto the floor.

"On the plane," Collins answered, "Which is all the more reason why we shouldn't miss this flight."

The three bohemians rushed over to a woman checking tickets and safely boarded the plane without any more chaos. Lou quickly dashed over and took a seat next to a trembling and crying April.

"I thought the plane was going to leave without you guys," she said softly, "And then I'd be here all by myself."

Lou gave her a hug and whispered, "Shh, it's okay now. No one's going to leave you alone."

Collins and Mark sat down in the two seats in the aisle over, Collins at the window.

"I wanted the window!" Mark protested.

"We'll switch on the way back," Collins said, "Anyway, you'll want it coming back because we're coming back at night and you'll be able to see New York City all lit up."

"Alright," Mark said reluctantly, "Ow."

"What's wrong?" Collins asked.

Mark reluctantly showed him the deep gouge on his knee. "I think it stopped bleeding, but it still hurts."

"Damn Mark, you've got to get that cleaned up," Collins muttered, "Stewardess, we need some help over here!"

A young lady with blonde hair came over quickly. "How can I help you?" she asked sweetly.

"Do you have a first aid kit?" Collins questioned.

The lady nodded and disappeared, returning soon after with a small, white box. "Here you are sir," she said.

Collins quickly bandaged Mark's cuts and handed the kit back to the stewardess. And not long after that all four bohemians were fast asleep.


	66. Chapter 66

**Another longish chapter! I hope you guys like it! Oh, and whoever makes the 600th review gets the next chapter dedicated to them!**

"Okay, does anyone see my aunt anywhere?"

"How should I know, I've never met her before!"

"What April said."

"No, I don't see her."

"Does this mean we're going to be stuck here forever?"

"No, we won't be stuck here forever. My aunt will be here soon enough."

"Louie!"

"See, I told you," Lou muttered to April, "Hi Aunt Eve, it's good to see you."

The woman wrapped her nephew up in a hug, and he almost seemed to shrink in her grasp, though she was a great dealer smaller than he was.

"Louie, are you going to introduce me to all your friends?"

"Yeah, Aunt Eve, this is Collins, April and Mark. Guys, this is my Aunt Eve."

"Nice to meet you ma'am," Mark said, sticking out his hand for her to shake.

"So formal!" Aunt Eve muttered, "You're close with Louie, so you're like family. Ixnay on the a'amnay. Just call me Aunt Eve. And no handshakes, a hug won't kill you!"

And with that she engulfed Mark in a bone-crushing hug, and then moved on and did the same to Collins and April.

"Come now," she said, "You must be hungry and tired from your long flight! Let's get you home."

"Aunt Eve, can we stop at Ritter's?" Lou asked.

Aunt Eve smiled. "Of course we can! Just don't tell your grandma- you know she doesn't like you spoiling your appetite by eating all those sweets. And don't order too much- we have a big lunch ready and waiting!"

"Oh, if that's the case I guess I'll hold on Ritter's. We can always go to Dairy Queen or Baskin Robin's. Or Cold Stone!"

"It sounds like a plan. Now let's dump these bags into the van and get going!"

And with that Aunt Eve turned sharply on her heel and began briskly walking towards the parking lot.

"Your aunt seems really nice," Mark said as the four bohemians followed quite a distance behind, lugging their bags along.

"She is," Lou said, "If she weren't my mom's sister I'd say she was my own, if that makes any sense. She doesn't seem like an adult."

"The Berkins are the nicest family on the face of the earth," Collins said, "Honestly, you'll never meet a kinder group of people. And I should know- I'm like their adopted son."

April and Mark let this information sink in. I couldn't really tell if this was a good thing or not. Would Mark get upset because this family was so nice and his wasn't? I sure hoped not.

Soon enough we reached Aunt Eve's green minivan and she instantly took April and Mark's bags.

"Go get in the car," she instructed, "I'll get these."

"Thank you," the two replied in unison and both frantically dashed towards the front seat.

"Shot gun!" Collins yelled, stopping both bohemians in their tracks.

"Dang," April muttered, climbing into the backseat with Mark on her heels.

"Shot gun," Mark said, grinning.

"You can't do that!" April protested, "Collins already has the front seat!"

"Yeah, but there are two middle seats and three people left," Mark said coolly, "So, shot gun! Now I don't have to sit in the very back."

April opened her mouth to speak but Lou shouted, "Shot gun!" before she could say a word.

"Darn," April grumbled, moving to the very back as a smiling Lou took a seat next to Mark, "Oh, and by the way, I get carsick really easily."

It was going to be a long trip.


	67. Chapter 67

**Sorry for the long wait and the shortness. It took me a while to figure out what I wanted to write, and then I didn't know what else to write! Anyway, enjoy! Oh, and school starts in exactly a week, so the updates will get further apart.**

**Also, this chapter is dedicated to angel718, who left the 600th review!**

An hour and five stops at various gas stations later so April wouldn't get sick in the car, the minivan pulled into a large, circular driveway right off the main road.

"How can you live in suburbia and not live in a subdivision?" April asked, causing everyone to laugh.

"I don't know," Lou said, "I guess my grandma just liked the house. C'mon, I want you guys to meet her!"

The bohemians, with the help of Aunt Eve, emptied the trunk of their bags and dragged them into the large, white house.

"Mom!" Aunt Eve shouted when they entered the house, "We have guests!"

"I smell cookies," April said suddenly.

There was an awkward silence before Collins said, "She's right, I smell it too. Damn, Granny's cookies are to die for!"

"Is that Thomas I hear?" an elderly voice questioned, and all heads turned to the small, wrinkled lady standing in the doorway with a walker and wearing a pastel pink dress.

"You know me too well Granny," Collins said, smiling and giving the lady a hug, "How've you been?"

"Quite well Thomas," she said, "Now where's Louis? If you're here surely he is as well- you two are inseparable."

"I'm right here Grandma," Lou piped up, giving his grandma a kiss on the cheek, "It's so great to see you!"

"Oh same here Louis," she said, "And it's nice to see Thomas too. He's like my own grandson! And who might these fine people be?"

"Grandma," Lou answered, "These are my other two roommates- Mark Cohen and April Ericsson. April's my girlfriend. Guys, this is my grandma, Paula Berkins."

"Please, just call me Granny," Granny said, "I can tell you're close with Louis and Thomas just by looking in your eyes. Oh Louis dear, she's a pretty one. It's wonderful to meet you two."

April smiled and gave Granny a hug. "It's nice to meet you too!" she said.

Mark just stood there awkwardly.

"C'mon Mark," I encouraged, "Give her a hug. A little physical affection never killed anyone."

"Nah," Mark whispered, remaining rooted to the spot.


	68. Chapter 68

**You have no idea how sorry I am for taking so long! School started not too long ago and I was swamped with work and stressed more than any person should ever be stressed. To make it up I've made this chapter pretty long and I hope you guys like the ending! I'll try and get the next chapter out soon, but I'm not making any promises.**

The four bohemians sat at the table, munching on warm, chocolate chip cookies and sipping milk out of twisty straws after finished a hefty lunch. Aunt Eve had gone to the grocery store for a few forgotten items and Granny insisted to stay at the house and get to know the bohemians better. The old woman was now sitting at the head of the table, a small, thin smile on her face and her head held high. Warm light poured through the window into the kitchen, creating a crown upon her head and resting delicately on her frost-ridden curls. She surveyed the four of them with alert eyes from her throne.

"When you are finished," Granny said, "You can play outside. I know it may seem odd for a quartet of twenty-odd-year-olds to be playing in the backyard, but it keeps the mind and body young. You can find an assortment of Louis and Thomas' old toys in the garage. I do believe you'll have a great deal of fun."

Everyone's faces lit up and they hurriedly cleared their plates before rushing out to the garage. However, their excited looks fell when they saw the garage.

"How can we find _anything_ in here?" April asked, surveying the cobwebbed, dust-covered, cluttered interior.

"I guess if we all split up and search we'll be able to find it," Mark suggested, "It may be labeled."

"Good thinking man," Collins said, slapping Mark on the back playfully, "Let's get looking."

So each bohemian took to a corner of the garage and began sorting through the various crates. Occasionally a sniffle or cough would sound through the muddled area, mostly from the dust, but other than that it was silent.

"Look Mark!" I cried, "Look at that box over there! By the that red wagon."

"Red wagon?" Mark questioned meekly, a pang of sadness in his voice. He walked over to the antique-looking, dust-coated wagon. Ever so gently he eased himself into it, rocking back-and-forth.

"Roger?" I asked.

Mark nodded in confirmation. "Roger."

"Look!" April said, rushing over to where Mark was sitting, "Mark found the box!"

Sure enough, April had found the box I'd spied moments earlier. On it 'Louis and Thomas' was written in sprawled, elegant cursive. It was fairly large, and seemed to be bursting at the seams. Can boxes have seams? Well, if they do, it was bursting there.

April struggled to rip through the duct tape before Lou came over with a Swiss army knife and cut it open.

Mark crawled out of the wagon and joined the three other bohemians as they peeled back the folds of the box.

"Wow," Collins mumbled as the contents were revealed, "Who would've known we had so much junk as kids."

Everyone laughed and Collins and Lou managed to drag the box back through the house (the garage wouldn't open) and into the backyard.

"Look, a football!" Lou exclaimed, taking a worn football out of the box, "Old Mr. Pigs Kin."

Collins laughed. "We had a lot of fun with Old Mr. Pigs Kin."

April looked at the two older men oddly. "You named the football?"

Collins and Lou laughed uneasily and blushed before turning back to the box.

"My old baseball mitt!" Collins exclaimed.

"Look, a pogo stick!" Mark said happily, pulling the named object out of the box, "Can I try it?"

"Sure." Lou said, not really paying attention as he continued to rummage through the box.

Mark took a few uneasy hops before falling roughly to the ground.

"You alright man?" Collins asked, rushing to Mark's side.

Mark grinned widely. "Never better!" he said happily, "Here, I wanna try that again!"

"How about we do something we can all do together?" April suggested, "Can we toss the Frisbee around?"

Everyone seemed quite partial to the idea, and soon the plastic, red disk was flying through the air.

"Mark, this is coming right to ya!" Lou shouted, tossing the Frisbee towards Mark.

Mark jumped up to catch it, but the Frisbee went over the fence into the next yard.

"Sorry about that!" Lou called.

"That's alright," Mark said, "I'll get it!"

Mark awkwardly pulled a lawn chair over to the fence and hopped over. He landed on the other side roughly, and looked around with alert eyes. He spied the Frisbee in the middle of the perfectly manicured lawn. Without looking up, he slunk over and reached for the disk, but a cherry red shoe with a four-inch heel stepped on it first.

Mark looked up timidly into the dark eyes of a girl. A very pretty girl actually. She seemed Mark's age, with pale skin and curly, dark hair.

"And what do you think you're doing?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

'Uh…" Mark stuttered, not being one to do well with beautiful women, or even women in general, "I'm just getting my Frisbee."

"Sure," the girl said, obviously not buying his true story, "That's Mrs. Berkins yard. All her kids are long gone. They're grown up. They used to be close with my grandma. Even her grandson moved away."

Mark nodded. "Yeah, that's Lou. We were visiting for Gran—Mrs. Berkins' birthday. Lou invited us. We were playing Frisbee."

The woman eyed him suspiciously.

"You can come over and see for yourself if you don't believe me." Mark offered.

The woman pondered the offering for a moment before saying, "Okay."

The girl fetched a lawn chair and Mark went over first. He turned around to help the women over, but just stood there in awe as she jumped over with perfect ease in heels and a miniskirt.

"Mark, is that you?" April called.

"Yeah," Mark answered, "I got the Frisbee. Oh, guys this is…this is…uh…"

Mark's face turned a bright red as he realized he didn't know the woman's name.

"Maureen," she said proudly, "I'm Maureen Johnson."


	69. Chapter 69

**This chapter is pretty long and I really hope you like it. Sorry it took so long, no good excuse again. Also, I'm thinking of starting another fic (yeah, _another_), which will be a cross between RENT and Fantastic 4. Please tell me what you think of this idea via PM or just through the review. Enjoy!**

Mark sat in the basement, his head on resting on his hand, sighing in content. Today had been a good day. A _very_ good day.

"Hello," April said, disrupting his fuzzed thought processes, "Earth to Mark. It's your turn! Truth or dare?"

After playing with the Frisbee for a while, a storm approached, filling the warm air with cool drops of water. They'd gone their separate ways and the four bohemians had started up a game of Truth or Dare in the basement, every light on as to dull the discomfort of the lightning and thunder.

"Uh, dare." Mark answered, still a bit dazed and even confused. I could tell he liked Maureen, but I could feel his hesitance because of her wild personality.

April thought for a moment before saying, "I dare you to—"

With a bright flash and a loud boom, the lights flickered and then went out. There was a small shriek from where April had been sitting, but other than that it was quiet.

"I guess we should go check on Granny and Aunt Eve," A Lou-sounding voice said.

The others mumbled their agreement and soon they found their way to the stairs and cautiously climbed up them.

"Granny!" Collins called out, "Aunt Eve?"

"Over here Thomas," Aunt Eve replied, and a dim light shone from the kitchen.

The quartet made their way to the kitchen where they found Granny peacefully sitting at the table, her face webbed with shadows. Aunt Eve was digging through a cabinet, a distressed look on her face.

"What's wrong?" Lou asked.

"This is the only flashlight with working batteries," Aunt Eve answered, "And they're losing their juice and will be completely out soon. We don't have any candles left either. Someone will have to run next door to get more batteries."

Six pairs of eyes glanced nervously out the full-wall window as a bolt of lighting cut through the thick darkness of the sky and a crash of thunder immediately followed. The rain was coming down harder now, filling the house with its commotion.

Suddenly, an odd, triumphant smile crossed April's face. "Mark," she said, turning towards him, "I dare you to go to Maureen's house and get more batteries."

Mark paled considerably. "I…I…no," he said softly, "I'm not going out in the rain. And that's unfair! You know…"

"Yes, it's so easy to tell you like her Mark," April said, "It's written all over your face. Believe me, I'm doing you a favor! Now go!"

"I don't like her," Mark protested, "She's nice, and pretty, I guess, but she's just so…wild. Bouncy. Flamboyant and outrageous."

"It doesn't matter," April said, "I still dare you to do it."

Mark sighed and made his way to the door. As soon as he opened it, he nearly flew back as the wind came gushing into the house. With as much might as he could muster, Mark inched his way out of the house and closed the door.

Turning back around, he began a long trip to the Johnson's house. He wrapped his arms around himself in attempt to keep warm from the pelting rain and occasionally unwrapped himself from the position to wipe his glasses clean of the water.

After what seemed hours, though it was probably only a few minutes, Mark made his way up the porch of the next house, looking like a sunken rat. His clothes were drenched, his hair clung to his forehead, and he was soaked to the bone. It didn't help that the wind was terribly strong.

"I…I…I'm going t…t…to g…get hy…hypothermia and d…die." He mumbled to himself through violent spasms of shivering as he rang the doorbell, his teeth clattering.

Soon a familiar looking woman answered the door. "Hello?" she said, confusion written on her face, "Can I help you?"

"It's me, Mark," Mark said, "Maureen I—"

The girl shushed him and smirked. "So you're the Frisbee guy. Maureen isn't here right now, actually. She left a while ago to go to her friend's house. I'm her twin sister, Helen. Why in the world did you come all the way over here? Here, you come sit in the kitchen. I'll make you some hot cocoa and get you some warm, dry clothes. I'm sure we have some of my brother left some of his old clothes here before leaving to college."

With that, Helen grabbed Mark by the arm and pulled him inside before hastily shutting the door and ushering him into the kitchen. She forced him down into a chair and disappeared for a few moments before returning with several blankets.

"Here," she said kindly, wrapping them around Mark's shoulders, "That should help for a while."

"Thank you," Mark said softly, looking at her in a way I'd never seen before.

Helen nodded and scurried around the kitchen, retrieving the various items needed to make hot chocolate.

"You like her, don't you?" I asked with an air of taunt in my voice as soon as she placed the mug in front of Mark and left the room to find him dry clothes.

"Yeah," he said, picking up the forest-green cup and holding it in his hands for warmth, "She's pretty, like her sister. But she's…calmer. Kinder, even."

I contemplated the idea. It was true- Helen's personality was on the other end of the spectrum. And she seemed genuinely nice and caring. Maybe, just maybe, this was the girl Mark had been searching for.


	70. Chapter 70

**Sorry for the long wait, I've been working on a different story. If you like Fantastic 4 you should go read it. Anyway, this is relatively long, and I hope you guys like it.**

Mark blushed a deep shade of red from under the mountain of blankets wrapped around him. Unable to find any of her brother's old clothes, Helen had instructed Mark take off his clothes and she could just stick them in the dryer.

"You'll get sick if you don't," Helen insisted after proposing the idea, "Anyway, I won't look. And I'll give you more blankets to cover up."

Mark finally relented and Helen pushed him into the bathroom.

Now Mark was sitting at the kitchen table, watching the seconds tick by on the clock and sipping on hot chocolate.

"How is it?" Helen asked suddenly, breaking the awkward silence.

Mark put down the mug slowly and looked across the table at the beauty. "How's what?"

"The hot chocolate,"

"Oh, it's good."

"That's good."

The room was once again swallowed with silence.

"Talk to her," I urged, "Start up a conversation."

"I don't know," Mark whispered hesitantly.

"What was that?" Helen asked.

"Nothing!" Mark said quickly.

"Why do you insist on keeping that scarf on?" Helen asked, twirling the spoon around in her mug, "It's sopping wet. And it's the middle of the summer."

Mark shrugged. "I really like it, I guess. I've had it since I was five and haven't parted with it since. Anyway, it's been with me for a lot of major events in my life."

Helen nodded. "Like what?"

I could feel Mark begin to stiffen up. "Mark, just calm down," I instructed, "You don't have to tell her everything. Just a few."

"Like…my bar mitzvah," Mark answered choppily, "I had it in my pocket. And it's helped me to meet friends."

Helen smiled. "That's really cool."

"Yeah."

Suddenly a loud buzzing noise sounded through the house.

"That would be the dryer," Helen said, "I'll be right back."

Mark nodded and we both watched as Helen exited the room.

"Was that so bad?" I asked.

Mark shook his head. "Actually…no. Usually I shy up and even snap when people ask me that, but…"

He trailed off and pulled the blankets tighter around his body.

"I really should put that old scarf in the dryer," he mused, "It's sopping wet."

"I'm sure it'd like that," I said, smiling widely. I wasn't ready to tell Mark who the little voice in his head was, but I really wanted to be dried off.

"I'll ask Helen when she gets back," Mark said, "Or just wait until— shit!"

"What is it?" I asked in unison with Helen as she ran back into the room, carrying Mark's clothes in a basket.

"I've been gone for almost an hour!" Mark answered, "I'm my friends are wondering what's taking so long. I was only supposed to come over for some batteries. I bet they're sitting in the dark, wondering what's taking me so long."

Helen laughed lightly. "Well there's no use going back now," she said, putting the basket down, "You'll only get wet again. Why don't you just stay here for the night? You can go back tomorrow if the rain dies down. You don't want to get sick. When my Dad gets home, I'll get him to go over and tell everyone you're okay and give them the batteries. He should be home soon."

Mark smiled. "That sounds good," he answered.

"Wonderful!" Helen squealed, "We can watch a movie if you like."

"That'd be great," Mark said, "Here, will you put this in the dryer?"

He picked me up off the table and held me out.

"Sure thing," Helen said, taking me gently and running off.

I smiled contently and dozed off as I tumbled around in the dryer, a scarf's guilty pleasure.


	71. Chapter 71

**Sorry for the long wait, I've been pretty swamped with school and everything. Well, enjoy!**

I smiled contently and dozed off as I tumbled around in the dryer, a scarf's guilty pleasure.

The next thing I knew I was being lifted out of the dryer. I woke up suddenly, taking a few moments to remember where I was.

"Right, I'm at Helen's house," I reminded myself, looking up at the new face of the person carrying me, "And that must be her dad."

A middle-aged man was carrying me downstairs. "This must be Mark's." he mumbled.

He entered the basement and I smiled when I saw Helen and Mark sitting on the floor playing war.

"Is this yours?" the man asked.

"Oh, hi Dad," Helen said, as both teens looked up.

Mark blushed. "Yeah, thanks."

Mr. Johnson smiled and handed me over to Mark. "Behave you two," he said before returning upstairs.

Mark took a break from the game to wrap me around his neck. "Whose turn is it?" he asked.

"Yours."

"Alright,"

Mark put down a card and Helen followed suit.

"Where's your Mom?" Mark asked.

Helen looked at the ground for a moment before saying, "She, uh, she died. It was nine years ago of cancer, when Maureen and I were seven."

Mark nodded knowingly. "I'm sorry," he said, "I had a close friend of mine die of cancer, too."

Helen looked up at him with glossy eyes. "The best ones always go first, don't they?"

"You're right," Mark agreed.

"I'm surprised _you're_ not dead yet."

"What?" Mark asked, surprised.

"All the nice, caring people die first," Helen repeated, "And you're a great person, Mark. I barely know you, but, well, I really like you. It's a miracle you're still living!"

Mark chuckled slightly and blushed. "Thanks, I guess. Oh, war."

"Yeah, wars are a big cause of the deaths of great people." Helen said.

"It's true, but not what I meant. I meant we have a war—queen, queen."

Helen blushed. "Oh, right."

They put down their cards.

"I win." Helen said, taking the cards.

"Helen," Mark said, putting his hand over hers and she grabbed her cards.

"Yes?"

There was an awkward silence as the two stared into each other's eyes. It was like they were talking without saying one word.

"Mark, will you do me a favor."

"It depends."

"Will you kiss me?"

Mark paused for a moment before answering, "Only if you do _me_ a favor."

"What's that?"

"I'll only do it if you kiss me back."

Helen smiled and blushed. "Of course."

Both leaned in across their pile of cards, their lips puckered.

"Hey, I thought you guys might be hungry," Mr. Johnson said, appearing in the basement, "So I brought you some soda and chips and salsa."

Helen and Mark's heads whipped around and they frowned slightly at the unexpected interruption.

"Thanks," Mark finally said, smiling.

"No problem, just get me if you need anything else. I'll be upstairs." Mr. Johnson said before returning upstairs.

Both teens turned back to each other.

"The moment is kinda ruined," Helen said sadly.

"Rain check?" Mark offered.

Helen grinned. "Definitely."


	72. Chapter 72

**You cannot begin to realize how sorry I am that this took so long! School is busy, and I have to stay there for fourteen hours a day because I'm in the pit orchestra (we're performing the play 'Aida' and opening night is on Friday). By the time I get home at night, I'm exhausted and it takes all I've got to do my homework, shower, and slump into bed. But, since we had no school today, I promised that I'd write another chapter, so here it is! I hope you guys like it! Also, even though the musical is only being preformed for two weeks, after that I have volleyball. If I make the team I won't have a lot of time to update, but probably more than I do now. If I don't make the team (which would make me very sad) I'll probably have quick updates like I did before. Just warning you. Now on with the story!**

"Mark," someone whispered, "Wake up."

There was some giggling, and I felt Mark being pushed around beneath me. I squeezed my eyes tired, wanted to get more sleep.

"Mark, man," another voice said, "It's time to get up."

"That's not how you do it!" another voice insisted, "MARK COHEN, WAKE YOUR SCRAWNY ASS UP!"

That woke Mark, Helen and me up instantly. The two teens shot up in bed, and I had little choice but to follow Mark's neck. All three of us looked up and both Mark and I groaned when we saw who was standing there.

"It's about time you woke up!" April said.

"Well, with you yelling like that…" Mark began.

"Enough!" Lou nearly shouted, "No more yelling this morning! We're all too tired."

"Except the Invisible Man over there," Collins grumbled, his eyes bloodshot.

In fact, all of there eyes were bloodshot.

Mark seemed to notice this, too.

"You guys look beat," he said, "What's wrong?"

"We stayed up all night waiting for you," Lou answered.

"Oh," Mark said quietly.

"We were going to look for you," April added, "But Aunt Eve said it was raining too hard, and wouldn't let us. She kept telling us you were probably just fine. But something didn't feel right, so we stayed up. We wanted to be sure."

"I'm sorry," Mark said, "I was invited to stay here because it was raining too hard. I was going to call, but the power was out over there."

"Mark, who are these people?" Helen asked.

"Mark, does Maureen have short-term memory loss?" April asked.

Both Mark and Helen laughed.

"No, Maureen doesn't have short-term memory loss," Mark answered, "And this isn't Maureen. It's her twin, Helen. Helen, this is April, Lou and Collins. You'll have to excuse them for their rudeness. They're not used to using manners back in New York."

The three bohemians glared at Mark.

"It's nice to meet you," Helen said, "Did my dad let you in? I thought he was at work right now."

They bohemians smiled sheepishly.

"About that…" April began nervously, "When no one answered the door, we kinda picked the lock and let ourselves in."

"Oh," Helen said quietly.

"Okay," Mark said suddenly, "You found me. Let's get back to Granny's house. Helen, it's been nice to meet you. Come on!"

With unknown strength, Mark pushed his friends up the stairs, out the door, and into Granny's house.

"Whoa, Mark, calm down," Lou said.

"You picked the lock?" Mark asked.

"We wanted to find you!" April insisted.

"You picked the lock?" Mark repeated.

"Man, you're really scaring us. Chill out." Collins said.

"You picked the lock?"

"Mark, seriously, this isn't funny." Lou said.

"You picked the lock?"

"Mark…"

"You picked the lock?"

"Mark," I said, "Are you okay?"

"They picked the lock?" Mark asked. I could tell the question was directed towards me, but it scared the other three.

"They?" Lou asked, "Mark, what are you talking about?"

April waved a hand in front of Mark's face. "Anybody home?" he asked.

Mark didn't respond. I could see him mouthing 'they picked the lock?' It was starting to scare me.

"Yes, we picked the damn lock!" Collins yelled frantically, taking Mark's shoulders and shaking him, "What's so damn wrong with that, man? We just wanted to make sure you weren't dead!"

Mark looked at him for a long time with glassy eyes before whispering, "You picked the lock?"

"GAH!" Collins yelled, pushing Mark backwards forcefully. The boy stumbled and tripped on a snag in the rug. He fell backwards and we all cringed when we heard his skull make contact with the wall.

"MARK!" We all yelled at the same time.

"Oh man," Collins mumbled, "I didn't mean to. Come on, Mark, wake up!"

"He's out cold," Lou said, "I'm going to go call an ambulance."

"Mark," Collins said again, "Come on, man, this has got to be a big joke! You know I didn't mean to do that!"

"Collins," April said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't use that tone of voice with me, April!" He shouted, "I can hear the pity! Stop it! Mark ain't dead 'til he's dead!"

"He's not dead," April whispered, "He's just sleeping."

"Like Roger," I said, my voice cracking as the tears came, "He and Roger have so much more in common then they ever would have thought."


	73. Chapter 73

**Okay, this is really, really short, but, IT'S A POST!!!! I copy and pasted my entire story off fanfic into a word document (I can't believe I didn't think of that before). The formatting is a little funky, but at least now I can keep writing! Hooray! I really missed writing. Anyway, I didn't make the volleyball team, but I'm working on one-acts, which are small plays directed by the seniors. I'm on crew. Also, finals are Tuesday – Friday, so I probably won't update anymore this weekend, but next weekend definitely. Anyway, enjoy!**

Luckily, Mark woke up shortly after he was admitted into the hospital.

"Mark!" April shrieked, hugging him tightly as he rested against the white pillows, "We were so worried!"

Mark grinned goofily. "I can't believe you guys picked the lock," he mumbled.

"If you don't wipe that smile off your face right now I'll wipe it off for you," Collins said seriously, but his eyes were sparkling with laughter.

Mark just smiled wider. "Sorry for flipping, guys," he apologized, "But, I really like Helen, and I want to impress her. And you guys picking the lock didn't really help that."

Lou chuckled. "That's all it was? Girl problems?"

Mark nodded. "If you haven't noticed, I've never really had much luck with people of the opposite sex…"

"You're fine around me!" April protested, "But I'll help you anyway."

"Thanks," Mark said, blushing, "I really appreciate that."

"I guess we should call Granny and Aunt Eve, they've been worried about you," Lou said.

"Did I ruin Granny's birthday?" Mark asked.

"Well, it's today," Collins said, "And you being okay would be a pretty good present, if I do say so myself."

"I'm glad you're awake, Mark," I said, "You're beginning to act like Roger more and more, for better or worse."

"Roger!" Mark shouted, bolting up from his lounging position.

"What about Roger?" Lou asked.

"I dreamt about him while I was…asleep," Mark answered, "Actually, he wasn't the only one I dreamed about. Collins, you were there too! You and me and Roger were sitting in the loft, and we had Stoli! And there was a pretty woman in a Santa suit. And she was dancing!"

Everyone laughed, including me.

"That's some dream, Mark," Collins said.

"Why wasn't I in the dream?" April asked, pouting.

"I don't know," Mark answered, "But that was what I dreamt. It all seemed so real."

"Well, real or not, it hasn't happened yet," Lou said, "Now, I'm going to get a nurse so we can get you out of here!"

"I'll come with you!" April insisted, following closely behind Lou.

"I'm sorry I lost my temper," Collins apologized.

"Don't worry about it," Mark replied, "Really, it's no big deal."

There was an awkward pause before Collins said, "So, what do you think your dream meant?"

Mark shrugged. "I don't know. We all looked a few years older, so maybe it means Roger will wake up and come to live with us. And maybe that woman was one of our girlfriends or something."

Collins laughed. "Maybe. Did she say anything?"

Mark shook his head. "No, everything was silent and in slow motion, but her mouth was moving, and both you and Roger were clapping and laughing. You both looked so happy."

"Who's to say we're not now?" Collins asked, "Well, who's to say I'm not?"

"No one," Mark replied, "I'm just saying."

Collins laughed. "I'm just messing with you," he said, ruffling Mark's hair.

"I know."


	74. Chapter 74

**I actually cannot believe I'm writing this again… It's been forever and I sincerely apologize! If I still have any readers left, I'm sorry for the long long LONG delay. I don't even know what happened…but recently I started my last show at school and it just happened to be Rent! And somehow between all the chaos of horrible rehearsals and opening night tomorrow I found myself being drawn to this old fanfiction. I missed it. No promises on updates…but I'm going to try so hard! Sorry it's short, but I figured it was better than nothing.  
**

**

* * *

  
**

"Summer, 1982. I'm here in Michigan celebrating the birthday of my roommate Lou's grandma. With us are his girlfriend, April, and lifelong best friend Collins. Just yesterday I met Maureen and Helen Johnson, who are two girls unlike any other I've met before. To be completely honest, I really like Helen. Maureen is just a little too wild… I've been going crazy here, though. I just keep thinking about how back home at the loft in New York someone could be trying to get a hold of me to tell me Roger finally awoke from the coma the school bully put him in. He's my best friend, and I worry about him every day. He's only seventeen…he can't be done living yet. He promised he'd come live in New York with me, and Roger never breaks his promises."

"Mark!" Collins called from downstairs, "We're cutting the cake now!"

"Coming!" Mark yelled back, turning the camera off and putting it safely away.

"You haven't really sat down with the camera like that in a while," I mused.

"Yeah…but so much has been going on, I felt like I had to catch up with myself," Mark whispered. I chuckled to myself. Even though he still was hesitant to address the voice in his head (aka me, his scarf), he still did it. And a whispered response was better than being ignored.

He made his way downstairs, me safely around his neck. I thought back to old birthdays in Mark's life – mostly his. Birthdays with Bethany and Ms. Pratt. Birthdays that were small and hadn't turned out very well. But for once, Mark was surrounded by friends and people who loved him. My Mark smiled as Lou dimmed the lights and April brought out a large cake covered with glowing candles from the kitchen. She placed it carefully in front of Granny, who was sitting at the table with Collins, Aunt Eve, Helen and Maureen (who had been invited last minute after Mark got home from the hospital after his little panic attack). Mark happily took a seat next to Helen as everyone began a rather poor rendition of Happy Birthday.

"Don't forget to blow out the candles and make a wish!" April said almost immediately after the song was finished.

Granny laughed. "Everything I could have possibly wished for I already have. Why don't you all blow out the candles for me?"

"But it's your birthday!" Lou proclaimed. "Come on, Granny."

"No, no, I insist."

I had a feeling as to what Mark would be wishing for. "Roger?" I asked, just to be sure. He nodded as everyone took a deep breath and blew all the candles out at once.


	75. Chapter 75

**I said I'd try to keep updating, and I plan on doing just that. I'm having a bit of trouble getting back into the same writing style (after all it has been several years) so if the writing seems a bit off that's why, and I apologize. Hope you like it!**

"Mark, you barely ate anything!" Aunt Eve exclaimed, trying to push another piece of cake onto his plate.

"I had three pieces. I can't eat anymore!" Mark retorted with a laugh.

"Well then Collins, I know you're good for another piece."

"If you so much as put that cake within three feet of my plate I will explode," Collins said.

"Well then I'll just put it away for later." With that, Aunt Eve disappeared into the kitchen.

"I have to pee…" April mused. Everyone watched as she tried to get up, but failed. "Ugh I'm too full!"

Everyone laughed, which made April more distressed. "Come on guys! This isn't funny!" With a grumble she finally got up.

The giggles died down. I'd never seen Mark and his friends so calm and lazy before. It must have been all the food.

"Maureen, I think it's time we get home," Helen said, and her twin sister nodded. Although all the cake hadn't had such a tiring effect on them, it was pretty easy to tell everyone else was falling asleep at the table. The Johnson girls got up and politely thanked Granny for inviting them before heading towards the door.

"You should walk them home," I offered. "Maybe make good on that rain check?"

That immediately made Mark perk up. "I'll walk you home."

"Hey, just because we're girls doesn't mean we can't take care of ourselves. It's only one house over," Maureen protested.

Helen jabbed her sister in the ribs. "Mark, that'd be wonderful."

Mark grinned and hopped up. Lou gave him a thumbs up and Collins managed to yell out "Make sure you come back this time!" before all three of them exited the house.

Maureen was right; their house was only a minute away from Granny's, but that didn't stop Mark from taking advantage of the limited situation. As Maureen forged ahead, he took Helen's hand. She was a little surprised by his forwardness, as was I. I'd never seen my Mark act quite so forward before. Admittedly, I was quite proud of my little guy. He was growing up so fast. Maureen immediately went inside, but Helen had other ideas.

"I had a really nice time tonight," she said.

"Me too. I'm glad you came. And sorry about freaking out earlier."

Helen just laughed. "Don't worry about it. So do you want to know what I wished for?" She asked, giving Mark a rather suggestive look, which he somehow didn't notice.

"What?" he asked naïvely.

She smiled shyly and looked away. "I wished you'd make good on your rain check."

Mark's face lit up as he blushed a deep shade of red. "Go on, Mark," I said as encouragingly as I could. "You can do this. Kiss her already!"

And I'm proud to say he did just that.


	76. Chapter 76

**The rendition of Rent I was working on just closed tonight. It's weird to think that tomorrow I won't have rehearsal. Free time…it's a crazy concept! Hopefully it'll mean more updates. I plan on watching the movie sometime this week, just to really get back in the swing of Rent. I really missed it…I can't believe it wasn't a part of my life for so long!**

It was just another lazy summer afternoon. Except this was the last lazy summer afternoon we would all be spending in Michigan at Lou's grandma's house before going back to New York. Although they'd been hanging out nonstop, this was the first time Helen and Mark had been alone since after Granny's party. And so here they were on a perfect summer afternoon, cuddling on a hammock in the backyard as the wind gently rocked them. It was absolutely adorable, if I do say so myself.

"I can't believe you're leaving tomorrow," Helen said with a pout.

Mark smirked. "You'd think after saying it all afternoon you'd begin to believe it."

Helen laughed and playfully smacked him. "You know what I mean. It just sucks that I finally find someone so amazing and now you have to go."

With a frown, Mark brought Helen closer to his chest. I frowned as well. It always seemed that just as my Mark was getting to know someone they left. When would the vicious cycle end? As I sat there pondering the answering, Mark posed a question of his own that completely threw me off.

"Why don't you come to New York with me?"

"What?" Helen and I asked at the same time.

"Come to New York with me," he repeated, getting up from the hammock. "You'll love it there!"

"Mark I really don't think –"

"New York is amazing. We'll have so much fun." Mark continued to ramble on happily, but I could tell Helen was hesitant.

"I can't go to New York with you, Mark," Helen said finally.

Mark stopped dead in his tracks. "What? Why not?"

"I just can't!" She exclaimed, getting up on the opposite side of the hammock. "I have to stay here. Not everyone can run away from home as easy as you can."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mark demanded angrily.

Helen took a deep breath before continuing. "I'm just not ready to leave yet. The fact that you could without looking back is admirable, and I don't know how you did it, but I just can't. I couldn't leave my dad and Maureen."

Mark looked at the ground, dejected. I tried my best to pat him on the back, using the wind to the best of my advantage. "Don't worry, Mark. There'll be other girls."

"That's not the point," he muttered, though I couldn't tell if it was directed towards me or Helen.

"Mark," she said, putting a hand on his shoulder, "Just because I won't go with you to New York doesn't mean I want this end. I'll wait for you. You'll come back with Lou next year from Granny's birthday again and we'll pick up right where we left off."

"Really?"

Helen nodded and then smiled shyly. "Only if you'll wait for me."

With a laugh, Mark took her hands and kissed her softly. "Of course."


	77. Chapter 77

**I don't really have much to say… Enjoy?! **

With a happy sigh April plopped down on the couch. "Home sweet home!"

Lou sat down on top of her, a weird look crossing his face. "Hm, I don't remember the couch being so lumpy though. How odd."

Collins, Mark and I laughed as Lou continued to try and snuggle into the couch, April struggling to push him away all the while. "Lou," she whined, "You're squishing me!"

Mark shook his head in good humor and made his way to the room he and Collins had begun to share since April moved in. "I'm gonna go unpack."

After being laid carefully on the dresser, Mark began to fold shirts and put them away in silence. It didn't stay quiet for long, though.

"Do you really think she'll wait for me?" He asked.

It took me a while to realize who he was talking to. "Oh, I don't know."

That didn't seem to be the answer Mark was looking for, but he didn't have time to press on when Collins stuck his head in the door. "Mark," he said, "Someone's on the phone for you."

Not bothering to pick me up, he left to answer. I tried to overhear what was going on, but to no avail. At least until the shouting picked up after the phone had been slammed into its receiver. Mark came storming in, Collins hot on his trail.

"I can't believe this!" Mark yelled, "How could you possibly go along with this?"

"Personally I think your mom's right," Collins replied, trying to stay calm.

"How could you think that? I can't go back to school! Not here, not without Roger."

So that's what this was about. I'd never thought about Mark returning to school, but it did make a lot of sense.

"Your parents still have college funds for you," Collins pressed on.

"So? April's my age and she doesn't go to school."

"Hey, that's not fair!" April yelled, angrily marching into the conversation, "Don't drag me into this."

"She might not go to school, but she does have a job," Lou said, jumping right to April's defense.

Mark took a deep breath and sat down on the bed. "I just don't want to go back, that's all."

With a small smile, Collins sat next to him and put an arm around the smaller boy. "We've all seen you with that camera, and we all know that's what you want to do. Why would you try and stunt your success? Going back to high school would let you go to college."

"Which would lead me away from all of you," Mark finished for him. "Besides, the only reason high school was even somewhat bearable was because of Roger. Everyone else always made fun of me."

No one knew what to say to that, but I did. "You're not the same person anymore. You've grown up and you've been through so much. It's only two years, and I know you're strong enough to get through it. You can go to college, or not, and you can always come back. These people are your friends; they're not going to give up on you. And what would Roger say if you gave up just because he wasn't there to hold your hand?"

Mark sighed and nodded. I could tell he knew I was right. "Alright, I'll go back."

Collins grinned and gave him a hug. "That's the spirit!"

"And April will go with you," Lou said.

"I'll what?" April shrieked with surprise. "What about work?"

Lou laughed. "It's no big deal. You really should be in school."

Mark grinned deviously. "Come on, April. It'll be fun!"

April smacked him playfully. "Fine. But everyone better get ready for the two craziest kids that school has ever seen!"


	78. Chapter 78

**Sorry for the long wait. I tried to make this chapter a little longer to make up for it. Yay?**

Not too long after that April and Mark found themselves home alone. The former lopped around on the couch while the latter tried to find something to eat that suited his fancy. April sighed as Mark opened the fridge once again, and Mark looked up from his search questioningly.

"What's wrong?" he asked, pulling me a little further from his body as sweat trickled from the nape of his neck down his back in the summer heat.

"How are you not dying with that scarf on? It must be a million degrees outside," April groaned.

"I'm not taking it off," Mark said with a little laugh, "We've been over this. So what's really on your mind?"

"School."

"Oh." I could feel Mark tense up beneath me.

"It's just so weird to think that after all this time I'll be going back," she mused, "I never thought I'd step foot in a school again."

This peaked Mark's interest as well as mine. "You know we've been living together for a while now. And I can't speak for Lou or Collins, but I still have no idea why you're here." It felt as though he was speaking for both of us.

With a chuckle, April began her story. "I'm from Baltimore, you know."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, it is…" She trailed off, and Mark and I eagerly awaited the rest of the tale. But it never came. "Hey, Mark, do you want to go school shopping?"

Although we were both curious about April, Mark knew better than to pry. "We don't have any money."

"We could just try on a bunch of clothes. Completely bug all of the employees and make fools of ourselves!" April exclaimed, jumping up from the couch.

"I don't know…"

"It'll be fun, I promise."

With a single sigh I knew what Mark's answer was before he said it. "Oh alright."

And with that they were off, April dragging Mark by the arm out of the loft and down the street. She didn't let go as they traveled block after block, April shooting down each store Mark suggested they go in. Finally, she stopped.

"The department store?"

"I've always wanted to go in but never have. Don't be such a wuss!"

Once again April grabbed Mark's arm and led him into the store. April immediately jumped into action, piling Mark's arms tall with all sorts of clothing.

"I'm not wearing that," Mark said, crinkling his nose as April put a silky dress in his hand.

She laughed. "No, that's for me."

"I have to carry your stuff too?" he whined.

April didn't respond, though. Rather, she just rolled her eyes, piled on a few more dresses, and pushed Mark to the dressing rooms. Finding the biggest one, she locked the door behind them.

"Aren't you going to get out?" Mark asked.

"Ugh you're such a wuss!" April playfully mocked, exiting. "I'll be in the one right next to you."

Mark surveyed his choices before finally deciding on acid wash jeans and a pastel button up. Playfully rolling up the sleeves and popping the collar he called out to April, "Okay, I'm ready."

"Me too!" She said, excitement quite evident in her voice. "Let me see."

They both exited their dressing rooms at the same time and burst out laughing. April had on a tiny lime green skirt with purple leggings underneath. A yellow top that barely covered her boobs completed the outfit.

"You look so stupid!" Mark said between laughter.

"Did you see yourself?" April replied, tears tugging at her eyes. "Come on, put on something else. I told you this would be fun!"

Several ridiculous outfits later they finally were kicked out of the store. They left, arm in arm, in a fit of giggles.

"I thought those parachute pants looked rather dashing," Mark joked.

"They wouldn't have been so bad if they weren't platinum," April said, her laughter finally subsiding. "I had a really nice time today."

Mark smiled. "Me too."

April clutched tighter to his arm, as though frightened by the reaction he would have to her next statement. "I think we should be best friends."

Mark stopped walking suddenly. Although it had been so long since they'd seen each other, since Roger had been conscious, I knew Mark was still loyal to his first true friend.

"Look, Mark, I'm sorry. Just forget I brought it up, okay?"

"Roger is my best friend," Mark said finally, "But…there's no reason why I can't have two best friends, right?" A large grin split April's face and I nearly flew off in the breeze I was so happy. "There is one condition, though," he continued.

"What's that?"

"You have to let me get those parachute pants."


End file.
